Anomaly
by Hiasobi
Summary: Military!Charlie. Half a lifetime ago Charlie left for a training camp that changed his life. Now Charlie has secrets and they're coming back to haunt Don.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: this story is **AU**. I should probably also warn that I'm a Canadian so I am only playing in the American political sandbox, which I am only vaguely familiar with. Please suspend your disbelief of real military procedures as well as I have no military experience.

But if you can do that, continue on!

* * *

**Title:** Anomaly  
**Timeline:** pre-series / vaguely Season 2 and 3  
**Summary:** Charlie has secrets and they're coming back to haunt Don.  
**Pairing:** Charlie/Don, Charlie/OFC, Charlie/OMC  
**Rating:** PG13

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

The first time Charlie saw a murder photo, he threw up, for hours. Until there was nothing left in his system and then dry heaved.

It was the beginning of winter, in his last year at Princeton. Only he wasn't at Princeton, he was at a camp, a training camp. He told his mother he was going away to a training camp for two months with his mathematical colleges, in a joint academic venture where they had recommended him to. She had smiled, hugged him, and told him good luck. While he was at the camp she was flying back to L.A. to spend the time with his father and his brother. He had smiled and nodded, told her he as going to be fine and watched her go.

Days later he was a camp, a training camp, one where he was on a joint academic venture with many of the top class scientists of the country. Only it was also a military camp, where they were under going basic training and military protocol for Civilian Consultants.

Top Class Sensitive Case Civilian Consultants.

They were given a recommendation to be trained in firearms.

Some refused.

. : - : .

_Charlie shuttled through the hallways, turning left and right, trying to find a familiar corridor. Of the eight scientists that came for the training, three had refused the recommendation for training with firearms. He had seen how the higher ups had been pressuring Dr. Langton and Dr. Ganger. Charlie had slipped away, not wanting to be pushed into what he didn't want. He knew they would find him sooner or later but he really didn't want to learn how a gun felt in his hands._

"_Whoa, slow down there."_

_Charlie blinked, momentum stopped by the two hands placed on his shoulders, just enough force to stop him from running into the tall woman. "Oh, eh, sorry. I wasn't, wasn't watching where I was going – or I was but I'm, none of these hallways look familiar yet and I can't find where I was supposed to go. I was shown earlier how to get back to my, my quarters, but I'm-" the lady in cargo pants and a tight t-shirt quirked her lips; Charlie flushed, looking away, " I'm kinda lost." _

"_I figured." She said amused, looking at the scrawny teenager in front of her. "This is the soldier quarters, I'm assuming you're a visitor?"_

"_Oh, eh, yes! Well, sort of, you see I'm training. In training with the other scientists with Civilian Consultant. For Civilian consultant." _

_By now a male, even taller then the woman, stepped up beside her and stared down at Charlie. Charlie knew he was going to blabber even before he opened his mouth so he tried really hard not to say anything while the young woman, middle twenties brown hair, pale skin, very shapely and quite attractive, looked at him with amusement in her blue eyes, while her male partner, dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin, broad shoulders and, actually quite beautiful, stared at him with analytical eyes. _

"_You're one of the Civilian Consultants?" The man asked._

"_Um, I will be, if, if I pass the training." Charlie answered. _

"_Aren't you a bit young?" The female questioned._

_Charlie drew himself up, he had been told and teased by the other scientists already that he would probably be asked this question a lot. "I'm graduating Princeton in four months. I'll have the credentials." _

"_You're a prodigy." She murmured; eyes half masked. _

"_Um, yes. If you want to say that. Yes." _

"_Krythan." The man said._

"_Vahn." Krythan, the woman, raised a hand to stop him from continuing. She didn't look away from Charlie. "And why are you sneaking around the compound?"_

_Charlie flushed, "I wasn't sneaking, or I wasn't intending on sneaking. I mean," She raised an eyebrow, "I just got lost looking for my quarters, I was trying to avoid some people. I-I just don't, they said they would recommend that we learn how to shoot, but a recommendation is not a, I mean I said no but now they're trying to pressure me into it, which I think is totally unfair!" Charlie quickly finished, eyes darting back the way he came, at the sound of footsteps._

"_You don't want to?" Krythan asked._

"_No, I mean, I'm a mathematician. My hands, my hands are for pens and pencils and chalk, not, not cold metal. And I'm not even old enough to drink yet!" Charlie added. _

. : - : .

"Don, you're here." Agent David Sinclair said as he walked into the observation room.

"What do we got?" Don asked, motioning to the lone man sitting at the desk in the next room over.

He looked about mid-thirties, broad shoulders, tall, very fit as evidence by the muscles his shirt clung to. Short brown hair and brown eyes watched the other rooms through the glass. His left arm was in a sling.

"LAPD picked him up; he was involved in a drive-by shooting. They ran his ID and he came up military. Lieutenant Gregory Williamson, currently on leave. But he won't say why he was the target of a shooting so the LAPD turned him over to us, hoping for a better result. He's not talking to me though, I've already tried."

"Alright." Don said, sliding off his jacket, "let me try."

Don walked out and around the rooms until he got to the appropriate doorway. Twisting the knob he walked in, the man at the desk turned to look at him as Don closed the door. "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes with the FBI."

Something flashed in the man's eyes at his name. Don paused, waiting for possible conversation, but the man made no other move.

"I'm the lead Agent in this office." Don paused again, but no reaction. "I'm not accusing you of anything sir, but do you have any idea why someone might want to kill you?"

Williamson's lips quirked, "I'm in the military Agent."

"Well yes," Don acknowledged. "But you're on leave, any reason why someone would follow you across the country and have enough motive to open fire in a major metropolis?"

Don sat down across the Williamson, staring into his eyes, but the man didn't seem interested in the questioning, no he seemed more interested in Don. His eyes stared at him, almost evaluating.

"You get a lot of crime in the city, Agent?" Williamson asked, almost conversational.

"Well yes," Don said, "but are you convinced enough that it was a random city crime to convince us of the same?"

The man's face was blank, carefully blank. Trained stoic.

Don knew he wasn't going to get anything out of this man, nothing he didn't want to give them. Don got up, "If you want to talk to us, we're here."

Don was at the door when Williamson spoke, "You don't have the clearance to hear what I would say."

Don turned back to look at the man. Williamson stared at him with dark eyes. So it was a security issue. Even if Williamson wanted to talk, he couldn't. Don wondered if it would be worth the bother to try and get deeper into this issue or to pass it off to some other department, and wait for the military to come pick up their man, they must have someone on route. A search in the internal database must have set off someone's alarm if what Williamson knew was sensitive.

"You live at home Agent?" Williamson asked.

"You mean with my family? No." Don had his own apartment, even if he spent the better part of the week at Charlie's.

"You see your family often?" Williamson continued.

Don took his hand off the door and crossed his arms; Williamson seemed too interested to not be having a point. "Maybe."

"How much security do they have?" The man leaned forward and placed his arm on the table. "Do they have adequate protection?"

"Are you trying to threaten me Lieutenant Williamson?" Don said slowly, eyes hard.

"No." There was intensity but no violence in the man's posture. "Just warning you."

. : - : .

"_Mr. Eppes, we would really like you to re-think the decision."_

"_I'm, I'm sure I don't want to sir. I just, I'm just consulting right?"_

"_That may be, but in case,"_

"_Is something the matter Private?" _

_The soldier and Charlie turned to see Krythan walking up to them. _

"_Captain Sign. No, no trouble."_

"_Then you don't mind me taking the civilian consultant would you?" Krythan said, putting an arm around Charlie's shoulders and directing him down the corridor. "For some consulting."_

"_Um," Charlie looked between the two military personnel. _

"_Captain Sign, Mr. Eppes has not passed the training yet." The soldier said carefully._

"_And I have every confidence that he will." Krythan told him. _

"_Right," the soldier said, "but in that case Mr. Eppes has yet to pass the firearm training."_

_Charlie interrupted "I believe that was a recommendation, not a requirement."_

"_Yes," the soldier allowed, "but the Superiors would prefer that you were adequately protected."_

"_How about," Krythan said, "you tell your Superiors to assign him to my team. I'm sure _we_ are adequate protection."_

. : - : .

"Don," Megan said walking into the bullpen, "this is Captain Philip Wren, our Army liaison."

Don stood and shook the man's hand. "Special Agent Don Eppes, glad to meet you Captain Wren."

"Thank you," the other man replied. "I heard you picked up one of our guys."

"Yes," Don affirmed, "right this way. LAPD took him in when he was shot at in plain daylight this morning. They transferred him over to us and we've mostly kept him here for his protection as we haven't been able to find out why he was a target."

They turned the corner and Don opened the door, as soon as Captain Wren stepped in Lieutenant Williamson raised his head, and Wren paused.

"Williamson."

"Wren."

So the two army men knew each other. Don stepped back to watch the interaction.

"What are you-" Wren cut himself off.

"I'm on leave." Williamson said evenly, staring at Wren.

After a moment Wren nodded, "Right, otherwise you would be with your unit."

"Of course." Williamson replied.

"Well, we can get you out of here, if you want to leave now."

"Yes." Williamson pushed up from the chair and walked past them out the door.

Wren nodded to Don, "Thank you."

"No problem." Don said, holding out a file, "you'll take over from here?"

"We'll take care of it." Wren said. "Thank you for notifying us."

Megan came up to him as Don watched the two army men bend their heads and whisper to each other on the way out. "Think it's anything serious?"

He looked back at her. "What ever it is, it's out of our hands now."

. : - : .

"_I guess that's it. This is goodbye baby boy." Kyrthan said._

_Charlie ducked his head, he hadn't liked the nickname, since it just brought more attention to his age, but it grew on him, once he found out that none of the team meant any malice from it. "I um, I'll be back next summer, to finish some training." _

_Krythan smiled, "Well, what do you know. We'll be waiting for you then."_

"_And um, thank you." Charlie said, "for all that you've done during my stay here."_

"_Nothing to it," Krythan dismissed, "You're one of us now. Tell anyone who picks on you, they're going to have to answer to the Frynd-Sign team."_

_Charlie blinked back tears, telling himself that it was only the sun glinting off Krythan's ring that made his eyes sting. They stood there for a while until the transport car beeped to hurry them along. His luggage was already loaded so Charlie quickly grabbed his carry on and stared up from under his lashes for a last look at his friend. Krythan hulled him in and gave him a strong hug which left his ribs aching but no protest from him. _

"_Be seeing you baby boy." _

"_Yeah, yeah. I'll miss you guys, when I'm back in L.A. when I get home."_

_Krythan brushed a lock of hair from his face, "we'll try to visit." She said vaguely. _

_. : - : . _

The letter arrived in the mail in the morning; a regular envelope addressed to Charlie Eppes at his home address, the return address as the University of CalSci. Nothing unusually, nothing to pay a second mind to. Alan Eppes dropped the letter, along with others, onto the dining room table in plain view before heading out for the day.

Charlie opened the door to his house in the middle of the afternoon. All his lectures were done for the day, it was a Tuesday, a short day in the week for him. He went through his mail and opened the letter. The letter supposedly originated from the University but when he unfolded the single white sheet, a plain silver ring threaded through a silver chain slid out into his hands.

_n-1._

Was all that was written.

Fingers calloused from holding chalk curled and clench tightly at the accessory.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

If there was one thing that he took back with him when he left the military bases, other then memories and knowledge, it was this. He dug through the many boxes in the garage, pushing aside piles after piles until he found the one. Opening the flaps, the box was filled with academia journals, rough and published papers, loose sheets of calculations, everything typical of his storage. Until he took out the top few layers and then in the midst of the papers were other, smaller boxes. Pulling out one in particular, knowing the other ones would simply be full of more papers, he opened the smaller box. Again, there were academia journals but underneath them he pulled out a black metal box with a combination lock. Carefully aligning the digits he unlatched the top, to reveal a small handgun and cartilages.

_I got this just for you baby boy. _

_I don't want it Kyrthan._

_Keep it. You're trained to fire this now._

_You said it was a technicality, that it was just for passing the test to- _

_Stay on the team. I know. And it's true. As long as the team is around, you won't ever have to have this on you. And you won't need one when you go back to the city, but keep it. Just in case. Just a memento. You don't ever have to shoot it. _

"Just in case." Charlie whispered to himself, repeating old words, loading a cartilage and heard it click in. "When the team is not around, and you need it."

He made sure the safety was on; he really didn't want to fire it. Pulling his pants up he tucked the small gun into his boots, industrial heavy duty boots he hadn't worn in just as long as he had held the gun, and placed the spare cartilages in his other boot. Making sure the pant hems were back in place he locked the metal case and put everything back again.

The ring slid out and hung from his neck as he leaned forward putting the last box back. A hand curled around the cold metal, an action he hoped that wouldn't have time to become a habit. There were a lot of things that message could have meant, he just hoped it wasn't the worst.

The doorbell rang. Charlie jolted and quickly tucked the ring back inside his shirt and walked out of the garage through the connecting door into the house. He took a breath to calm himself down and opened the door.

Standing at a 6'2" on his doorstep with a face so familiar, brown eyes sparkling down at him, large luggage bag on his shoulder, was the means to his answer. "Greg." Charlie breathed.

"Hello Little Professor." Lieutenant Gregory Williamson of the U.S. Army smiled.

. : - : .

"_Krythan! Krythan!" Charlie shouted, catching up with her in the hall. "Vahn." Charlie gasped, chest heaving from the sprint, "Vahn is alive."_

_Her jaw was made of granite. "Of course Vahn is alive. A mission of this caliber is hardly an obstacle for him. Ignore what the bigwigs say, when his dispatch comes, they'll be eating their words."_

"_No," Charlie said, grasping her arm. "Vahn is _alive. _I know where they are."_

_Krythan was still, completely motionless. "Charlie, do you know what you're saying?"_

"_I, I ran some calculations." Charlie stumbled over his words, trying to get them all out while he still had her attention. "From all the data of the unknown bombings of the enemy sites, in the last few days? No group came up to claim them, right?"_

_Krythan nodded slowly. _

"_It's Vahn. And the others." Charlie told her, "I ran a regression analysis on purpose of target, level of impact, and,"_

"_Charlie, skip the math." She told him._

"_James has demolition experience, five years ago his old team ran scenarios using the same level of damage impact bomb. They're most probably choosing the targets according to Greg's navigation system that he took with him, it had old data on enemy encampments. And they're slipping in and slipping out quickly, probably Vahn has been infiltrating each base ahead of them, to get to the next site."_

"_Charlie, the company lost contact halfway through the desert, and the encampments attacked are moving _further_ away from us."_

"_I know, I know. That's just it. We've been assuming they're going to try to get back, but if we change the motive…there's not enough gas and supplies left for them to make the trip back, and their radio communication is shot. They can't make it back on their own but they do have explosives…"_

"_And they can take as many of the bastards out with them as they go down. The god damn stubborn son of a bitches!"Krythan seethed, "I told them no heroics! I don't need fucking martyrs on my team, I need them to come back alive! "_

"_Based on my calculations of their paths and triangulating it with available water resources and best optimal travel routes to stay under detection and adding in the time intervals they could move in the dark…"_

_Krythan gripped his shoulders hard. "Charlie."_

_He looked into her eyes, they were depending on him. His friend's lives depended on him having gotten his calculations right. "They should have enough supplies for another two days, if they stretched it correctly. I narrowed the area down to where they could be within a 3 km square unit. If you can mobilize people…"_

"_Send out the choppers, fly over the area, have the ground troops scout for signs…"_

"_We should reach the target area within approximately 15 hrs."_

"_Which gives us half a day to find them. Charlie, thank you!" Krythan pulled him into a crushing hug. "I'll bring our boys back, you'll see! Meet me at the northern doors with your maps in 30 minutes! I'll gather the troops!"  
_

. : - : .

"Hey Don." Alan greeted his son from the couch as he walked in late that night.

"Hey Dad." Don slid off his jacket and put it on a hanger by the door. "What's for dinner tonight?"

"You'll have to ask your brother." Alan answered lowering his paper, "Charlie's cooking."

"Yeah?" Don said cautiously, unbuttoning his cuffs.

"Yeah, he's making it now, with one of his friends in the kitchen. Apparently they're on vacation and came to visit." Alan told him.

"A friend?" Don repeated, turning towards the kitchen where he could see movement. "Do we know who?"

"No one I've met before but they seem to get along, and Charlie said they hadn't seen each for years." Alan told him.

"Years, okay." Don nodded as he walked away. As he drew closer he could see the figure of someone who wasn't his brother leaning on the counter, and their voices. As consistent with what his dad said, the two voices sounded happy, amused.

"And here, I'll finish that." His younger brother said, taking something away from the other person.

"I _can_ help with something you know. I've done kitchen duty." The other man defended.

"Yeah, didn't James used to tell me he'd _begged_ to take those duties from you, just so he could be assured that the food was edible?"

"Oh he did not." The friend protested, and then paused, "only sometimes."

Charlie laughed. "That doesn't inspire confidence, and it proves my point."

Don smiled, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen unnoticed; watching his brother chop the last of the vegetables as the man beside him remained quiet, sulking probably. From here he could see the back of the visitor, short brown hair and broad shoulders like Colby's, posture suggesting he had his arms crossed in front of him. Charlie though, Don could see his face at an angle and his lips were pulled back into a smile, his face bright, eyes shining. His whole body was in the present, filled with contentment.

He waited until Charlie put the knife down. "Hey, I'm home."

"Don!" Charlie said, turning towards him. "Hey, you're home, this, this is my friend, Greg."

The smile left his face as the friend turned around and he recognized; brown hair, brown eyes, same strong jaw. "Lieutenant Gregory Williamson."

"Yes." Charlie said, smile lessening as he grew confused. "How did you know that?"

"We met, earlier in the day." Williamson replied, face neutral, all traces of previous mirth gone. "I thought you might have been related, but I wasn't sure."

Williamson had recognized Don's last name. "Well."

Charlie looked between the two men. "You guys met, earlier today?"

"Yup," Don said, staring into Williamson's eyes. "Greg here was brought in after he was shot at."

"You were _shot_?" Charlie repeated.

Williamson gave him a dark look before turning to counsel Don's brother. "Shot _at,_ I didn't actually get shot. They mistook me for someone else or they didn't like the way I dressed. Apparently there are some places you're supposed to avoid in the city, but I didn't know." He shrugged and gave Charlie a lopsided smile.

Don didn't buy it and from the incredulous stare that Charlie gave the man, he probably didn't either.

Charlie opened and closed his mouth several times. "You have to be careful about the gangs here. They don't like it if they think you're invading their territory."

Or maybe he did. Don tried not to turn his own incredulous stare at Charlie. Some times, his younger brother's genius did not align with common sense.

"I'll keep that in mind," Williamson placated his brother. "How about we take the food out now?"

"Oh, right." Charlie turned to plates around him, "Don, take the salad will you?"

Though out the dinner they made small talk, there was an initial rough patch when they told Alan how Don and Williamson knew each other, but Charlie fumbled over it with, "Greg got caught in the middle of city gang territory," and it was not mentioned again.

But it was curious, and Don was curious, "How do you two know each other?" There was just no logical reason for Charlie, math geek, to have met an army soldier years ago.

"Yeah," Alan supported, "How did you two meet?"

"We met in training." Williamson said, taking a bit of the salad.

"Well," Charlie jumped in quickly, "Greg was training. I was giving a presentation at a conference. For, for a project. Near his training base. And we met, on a lunch break. We eh…"

"Ran into each other, literally? Does he still do that," Williamson gestured to the other Eppes members, "that thing where he starts writing math on a binder, folder, or whatever and forget to watch where he's going? I'm not the only one who gets his coffee dumped all over me when I walk away from the counter?"

Alan snorted. "Oh yeah, I don't think he'll ever stop."

"Charlie gets lost in his math, all the time." Don said, watching his brother splutter.

"I do watch where I'm going!" Charlie told them but nobody believed him.

. : - : .

_A knock on his door distract Charlie from the papers of equations spread out in front of him. Gregory Williamson stood at the entrance, back straight and shoulders tense. "Mind if I come in Professor?"_

_Charlie wasn't a Professor yet, he was still in the process of finishing his doctorate. But members of the Frynd-Sign company had been calling him that for at least a year now, when ever he showed up to his yearly visits to the training base and the short intervals he was there for consulting. The older members stayed a respectable, polite distance from him, but the newer members always confused about why they had a mathematical geek in their unit, sneered. Gregory Williamson, career military and inherited from his family, had been hostile, looking down on the civilian consultants. Charlie had made a bad impression when they first met, running into the man in line at the cafeteria, making the soldier burn himself with steaming hot coffee. _

"_Come in," Charlie said, moving several stacks of folders. _

"_Don't clean up on my account. This will only be a moment." The soldier stood in front of Charlie's desk, arms locked behind his back, standing at attention. "I just wanted to say thank you. Captain Sign told us that you were the one who found us, out there in the desert, when we were labeled MIA and everyone had stopped looking."_

"_I, I didn't really do anything." Charlie stuttered, "I just, I ran some calculations. And, anything else anyone who could have, would have done."_

_Williamson stared at him, a curious light in his eyes. "Possibly, but thank you, all the same. You saved us."_

_Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to thank me. I'm also a member of Frynd-Sign, Specialist Williamson."_

"_Yes, you are." Williamson said softly. "Please, call me Greg."_

_He smiled. "Charlie."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I forget there is this same problem in every fandom and I want to nip it in the bud. Within _one day_ of posting the Anomaly verse, I've gotten a comment from someone, who didn't leave me a way to contact them in reply, that they're tired of all the fictions about Secret Agent Charlie.

And nothing else.

That's your opinion on the whole of fandom, but that has _no bearing_ on my fiction. Judge my story on its own merit, but please don't read the whole thing and then proceed to tell me you dislike the plot device, if it _is evidently visible since the beginning._ **Click the back button** on your browser or **read a different story**. Remember the author writes for his/her own benefit and for target audiences alike, _if you are not in that group_, you are free to **stop reading_. The author is not forcing you to read the fiction to the end._** This is like you walking into the Romance section of a bookstore, proclaim you are tired of romance stories, then open a book to read through it. It only makes you seem vaguely stupid and a hypocrite.

On another note it seems I've gathered a following of silent readers for this fiction, which is fine. I'm a silent lurker in many of the fandoms I enjoy as well, =). But **kira66** deserves special mention for being the first, and only, person to review this story so far. If the rest of you would like to drop a line at any time, it would be welcome, but I thank all who has placed this story on Story Alert and/or Story Favourite alike.

And without further ado.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

"You were shot at?" Charlie repeated the next afternoon, when the house was empty except for the two of them.

Greg had spent the night in the garage, on the mattress Charlie had tucked away for occasions when he couldn't be bothered to walk those stairs up to his room. Charlie had wanted to show Greg his work on Cognitive Emergence and the talk went late into the night.

"Possibly," Greg affirmed, "but it could be a random shooting. I don't think anyone followed me, and I don't think anyone knows where I am."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. At the very least they don't know what I'm here for specifically."

"Why you're here." Charlie said softly, watching his friend's face. He reached beneath his collar and pulled out the necklace.

Greg sucked in a breath. "Krythan's ring."

Charlie waited but he had to know something, before anything else was said. "Are they alive?"

Greg flicked his eyes up to his. "Yes. I wasn't sure before, but to send you that, she has to be."

Charlie let out his breath and with it a weight he hadn't known was crushing him ever since he opened that envelope. "Tell me about the last mission they were on."

. : - : .

"_So you're saying n could be any number. Any number at all." Krythan said amused, staring at the boards with his calculations stuck up._

"_Any, and every, relevant number to the sequence. It's arbitrary." Charlie agreed._

"_So in the case of people, n could be anybody." Krythan continued, looking to Vahn._

"_In the case of studying population and people, n would be anybody or any group of people, it would stand for an infinite number until you put limitations on it. Let's say, here let us use this equation as an example, if x to the power of 4 is,"_

"_Nevermind Charlie." Krythan interrupted him. "My point is: n could stand for anybody and everybody."_

"_Well," Charlie scratched his head, "yes."_

_Krythan grinned wickedly. "Sounds like you Vahn."_

. : - : .

"Victim is Victor Helm." Megan told Don, handing over a report, "Early thirties, Caucasian male, he currently at the hospital getting treated for being a target of a drive-by shooting."

Don flipped open the cover. "So what, that's two drive-bys in two days. Do we have any lead on this case?"

"I ran his file and get this, Helm," Megan curled her lips, "is U.S. military. Currently on leave."

"Same as our guys yesterday," Don connected. "So we've got two victims, both early to mid thirties, both Caucasian males, both works for the U.S. military and are on leave when they get shot at in broad daylight in Los Angeles. Coincidence?"

"Your bet is probably the same as mine." Megan said.

"We've got a guy targeting soldiers who are on leave to see their families?" Colby asked, and everyone knew, just by looking at the man's face, this was getting personnel for the ex-army agent.

"We don't know if that is exactly it yet." Megan pointed.

"But it's an angle." Don told them. "I want you guys to go through the database, see who else fits the profile: thirties, Caucasian male, on leave from the military, in the Los Angeles area. And I want to give them a warning that someone might be out there trying to gun them down."

"But why?" Colby asked as they all ran back to their bullpens.

"Could be anything. Could be that someone is anti-military and is taking it out on them. Maybe a loved one died serving in the service and it was a trigger." Megan told him.

"Could be that maybe they know something sensitive," David added, "and they weren't a vulnerable enough target until they got away from the other soldiers."

"Good, run that angle as well." Don said, "Check if our two boys are working on the same project, or maybe if they served under the same people. See if there is anything to connect those two."

"I'll go get a statement from Helm." Colby said, strapping on his holster. "Could I get the contact information for Wren from you Megan? I'll ask him where to find Williamson."

"Don't bother." Don spoke up and Colby stopped, his team turned to him with inquisitive eyes. "Williamson is on leave, to visit his friends, including my genius math brother."

"_Charlie_?"

. : - : .

"_I'm so sick of this." Krythan said placing a bag of ice on Charlie's bruising jaw. "You need to tell me their names."_

_Charlie gently took the ice from her, remaining quiet while Vahn shook his head. "It won't matter. You punish the ones responsible this time, others will take their place. They don't believe in baby boy here's ability to take care of himself." _

"_Hey!" Charlie protested, both at the nickname and the sentiment. "I'm just, just a consultant. I don't know why I have to be able to wrestle with the rest of them. They don't bug the other consultants about it." _

"_Because the others are not attached to the Frynd-Sign company," Vahn told him, "being _ours_ means you have to live up to the standards."_

"_I think he lives up to them _fine_." Krythan replied._

"_But the rest of the guys don't agree." Vahn and Krythan entered into a stare off. _

"_Look, Krythan," Charlie said, not wanting be an issue between them, "its okay. I'll just try to avoid them." _

"_Like that's worked so far." Krythan snorted, "What are you waiting for baby boy?"_

For Don to come save me._ Charlie didn't say, knowing how irrational the thought was, he was in the middle of an undisclosed location and Don was gone, off to make a life away from his family and his freak of a brother. But Charlie was still here, waiting for his brother to come back, for his big brother to find him. _For Don to protect me.

_Krythan sat down next to Charlie and looked him in the eyes. "It's been three years." She said gently. "Maybe it's time you learn how to shoot a firearm."_

_Charlie jerked. "Krythan, what?"_

"_I'm not saying you have to shoot someone." Krythan explained, "I'm saying you should learn and carry one on you, and show those guys that you have what it takes to be here. But as long as you are part of my team Charlie, we're going to protect you, and you won't ever have to shoot someone if you don't want to. You're going to earn your status, and show you have just as much skill, if not more, then theirs. That you made a choice, that you know the same as them, how to use a gun, fire a gun, but not to use it."_

"_Krythan…"_

"_How about it my baby boy?"_

"_Alright."_

. : - : .

Don and Colby walked past the CRV parked outside his house, camping gear and luggage bags in the trunk. The federal agents opened the door was entered the living room, where a wayward mathematician was packing up the last of his work into a shoulder bag.

"Going somewhere Charlie?" Don asked.

His younger brother jerked at the noise, "Oh, Don. You're back already. Yeah, um, I was just going, going to take Greg out to see the sights."

"I don't think that a good idea right now Charlie." Colby told him.

"Why?" came from the stairwell.

The two men in suits turned to watch Gregory Williamson finish his trek down the stairs. Don didn't know how close Charlie and Williamson were, despite the warm camaraderie shown yesterday, the two men were a bit close for someone whom they hadn't seen for years. Don knew he was missing something, even without the tip off that whatever Williamson worked on, was top secret. They also didn't let just anyone go upstairs to where their bedrooms were.

"Still think you were shot at randomly yesterday?" Don asked as Williamson pulled to a stop beside Charlie.

"Yeah."

"Well, think again." Colby disagreed, pulling out a photograph. "We've got notified of another attack, drive by shooting of Victor Helm: mid thirties, Caucasian male, currently on leave from the military. You're being targeted."

Charlie paled but Williamson's face gave nothing away. "Do you know why?"

"Why don't you tell us?" Colby challenged. "Do you know Victor?"

Williamson stared at the agent silently before taking the photograph for a closer look. "So we both fit a profile."

"And you both on leave and arrived in L.A. at the same time." Colby continued. "Any reason why someone would want to take you out?"

Williamson shrugged. "You make a lot of enemies in the field, but most of them, still where I left them, on enemy lines in the Middle East. What did Helm say?"

"Nothing." Colby took the photo back. "He' still unconscious. Why don't you tell me what he's going to say?"

"How do you know him?" Don questioned.

Williamson's gaze didn't waver, "We trained in academy at the same time and we worked together for a while. But two years ago he was transferred to another station."

"You guys stay in touch?"

"We weren't close."

"You do Special Ops with a guy, and when he leaves you forget about him?" Colby wasn't buying it.

Williamson looked right back at the ex-army agent. "And when you're no longer pulling his life out of danger, and he has his own team to consider, you have time to speak with him regularly, with your team depending on you to keep them alive?"

Colby was quiet. "Half the time you're lucky if you even know where he is."

Williamson inclined his head.

"Alright guys," Don said putting his hands up, "we're not here to accuse anyone, just want to know some information. You said something about a security issue yesterday." Don reminded Williamson, "Was what you were working on before this, really sensitive?"

"Before I was put on leave," Williamson said, "My team was on stand by. We had no active mission. I got hurt during a training maneuver, and they sent me on a recuperation leave until I was of use again."

"Greg." Charlie looked at him in concern.

"There's nothing classified about that part." Williamson assured Charlie.

"But there is something classified." Don interrupted.

"Most of what you do in Special Ops is."

"Right," Don muttered. "Anyways, try to avoid being out in the open and I'm going to have an agent assigned to you for protection."

"I can protect myself Agent." Williamson said evenly.

Don stared at him, uncompromising. "Not when you're with my brother you can't."

"Don." Charlie looked at his brother, hating the fact that he was always a liability.

"No Charlie, I'm not putting you at risk, and who knows if they followed Williamson here already. They could very well know that you two are connected and might hurt you to get to him!"

"Don!"

"Look Don," Colby interjected, "I'll stay here until you get somebody to take over. I'll see you at the office later."

"Alright Colby," the older Eppes brother said, running a hand through his hair, "thanks."

"I can take care of myself." Charlie muttered but fell quiet under Don's warning gaze.

Williamson stepped in front, cutting off Don's line of sight, and the two men stared at each other until Don's phone rang. "Eppes. Yeah, alright, I'll be right there." Flipping the phone shut he looked at the three men in the living again. "Be careful."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I'd just to like give a quick reply to all those who reviewed and showed supported for this fiction. But I know the best way to compensate readers would be releasing another chapter, so without delay, here you go =)

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"_Charlie where did you learn all this stuff about assassination?"_

_Charlie gave a weak smile. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." _

_Amita laughed. "Seriously." _

_His smiled died. "Seriously." _

. : - : .

One of the convenient things about going to England and when he moved in with Susan had been being able to slip away easier. Susan had her work and research and Charlie had his work and research and his consulting that he never mentioned to her. Charlie would leave sometimes for days, weeks, and in the days nearing the end of their relationship, months, telling her he was going to an academic conference, giving presentations and consultations, leaving her names and numbers of other scientists who were going to be there with him. When called the other civilian consultants would answer and give carefully worded speeches about the conference, always better than Charlie could. It became easier to fend off his mother about monitoring his life, as she gave the new couple space to have time alone, and it felt nice, to not have to lie to his mother as often. Susan hadn't known how rarely Charlie taken those sabbaticals, to her they had always been a part of his routine, so when the number increased exponentially in a year she didn't notice except to remark that his career was really taking off. And it was, if you counted the doctorates the government awarded him for the work he achieved. It was also easier to hide from Susan because her own career started taking off and she was often busy and out of the house on research trips of her own.

Eventually the strain got too much, too many stressful events coinciding, by the time Charlie walked away from his Operative status to try and save the relationship, it was too late. Moving back home with his parents were therapeutic, something that he had really needed, even if his parents hadn't know. The life of a regular civilian was shocking and disconcerting after life in the field, but he had been so raw and vulnerable, being with his family was a balm to his soul. His parents marked his behavior off as having his relationship with Susan not working out, and he never corrected them. He couldn't, so he let them make their assumptions and just held on to them with everything he had.

He didn't go to a psychiatrist, couldn't, not with what he had seen and done, he would be breaking national security. He also couldn't go the military provided one, because he couldn't explain that to his parents. He was finally getting better, stabilizing, accepting there were some things you couldn't change and some things you just had to forget, when his mom fell sick; diagnosed with cancer. Incurable. It broke him all over again, that death could touch those he loved in the normal life just as easily as it did in the field. No matter where he went, he couldn't save them.

Don came home but it was too late. Charlie had waited for Don to save him from things; bullies, fire, bullets, fear, despair; for years now but he hadn't ever come. When Don finally came back from Albuquerque, Charlie had stopped expecting him to.

. : - : .

"_Announcement from the higher ups." Krythan said when asked what her meeting had been about. _

_Vahn stared at her collar. "You got promoted, a Major now." _

_Krythan smiled. "Knew you'd notice right away."_

"_That's great!" Charlie congratulated. _

"_Yeah it was a surprise." The new Major told them fingering the stripes, "But that wasn't what I went to talk to them about." She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew something, reaching for Charlie's hand she placed the pin in his hand. "You're an operative now." _

_Charlie's face drained of all blood. "No, no. No, I'm, not I'm not. I'm, I'm just a consultant."_

"_Yes." Krythan confirmed calmly in the face of his panic. "You're a civilian consultant. But now you're certified to be part of the Frynd-Sign company instead of attaché. You're truly one of us now, no one can bother you about that."_

"_But, but."_

_Vahn gripped the young man's shoulder in comfort, "You'll always be a civilian consultant. You're operative status will be secondary, we'll make sure it gets buried somewhere in your file. You won't ever have to be an Operative. It only means, to others, that you are truly ours now."_

"_Everything will be alright baby boy, nothing is going to change." Krythan said. "But you said you wanted to come with us on missions, to be there on site for data. This will allow you to do that."_

_Charlie breathed out, "Alright. Alright."_

. : - : .

Except things did change. Charlie left the base now sometimes to go with the team on missions. He would fly from and to home more often, taking sabbaticals from his research but still earning a doctorate a year, but unable to tell others why and what project he earned it on. He earned honorary degrees in biochemistry, genetics, organic chemistry, human biology; collaborated many papers with the other scientists. Larry would often rave about how Charlie found time to be part of all these breakthroughs, when Charlie had to hold his tongue and not tell Larry how the discoveries came at the cost of human lives, human lives that they had sent out into the combat zone never to be seen again, or watching the people they ate dinner with just the other night dying in the infirmary because of a biochemical warfare weapon you helped decode but not in time to save everyone.

The gun was a constant weight on his body but Charlie had never fired a shot, never ejected a bullet from the barrel outside of a shooting range. Until the time came when he had no choice.

. : - : .

_James was bleeding, but so was Greg. Krythan was all scratched up and Vahn was streaked with dirt. This wasn't the first time the team was in these conditions from a mission but this time there was no mission, and this was on their home turf. Someone had infiltrated the base's security and had opened the way for enemy troops. There were gunshots and screams and people Charlie knew were bleeding to death in front of him when the infirmary was only three levels down. _

"_Keep the pressure on that wound Charlie!" Krythan shouted at him and he pushed, pushing down on James' sides and the soldier hissed in pain. _

_Blood, red and staining were spreading over his hands and Charlie was shaking. "You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay." He kept blabbering. _

"_Your new doctorate just happens to be medicine?" James joked weakly. _

"_Not funny Iverson." Greg said sharply when he saw from the side that the comment had upset Charlie even more. The soldier fired more shots at the enemies with the other before ducking down behind the upturned tables and pillars, then repeating the pattern. "Did we get a signal out for back up?"_

"_The message was sent but don't know when they'll get here." Victor crawled up to them behind the connected furniture. _

_Charlie knows that with the constant pressure he's applying James will have another hour before he bleeds out, half an hour if he doesn't. Charlie also knows that if back up doesn't arrive in the next 10 minutes, moving James would become an issue. _

_A buzz sounded from Krythan's hip radio. "Infirmary is secured." Vahn's calm voice tells them. _

"_Okay." Krythan nudged the soldier next to her, "you and Victor take James to the infirmary. Most of the hallways should be secure. Greg I need you here with me." Greg nodded from where he was tying a tight double knot on James. "Charlie go with them, you're on point." _

_Charlie was ashen. "P-point?" He questioned, unable to comprehend the statement. _

_Victor sent him a sympathetic gaze but refocused on lifting James carefully with the other soldier. There really is not other option, Charlie was not strong enough to carry James to the infirmary and Greg needed to stay to keep the enemies back so that they had the time to get to the infirmary. Someone needed to be point guard watching for stray enemies as they made their way down the halls. _

"_I can't, I can't do it Krythan." Charlie pleaded. _

"_Charlie," Krythan said quiet, "you haven't missed the bull's-eye ever since your second week on the shooting range. You can do it: you have a gun on your hip, now you can make the choice to use it not to kill others but to save James. You might not even have to; other teams have gone ahead already. You might not run into an enemy soldier." _

_Charlie nodded and lead the way, hoping, praying feverishly that Krythan was right. _

_They weren't that lucky._

. : - : .

The first time Charlie shot a man was also the first time Charlie killed a man. Bull's-eye every time. Krythan had thought him to aim for the head and the heart.

. : - : .

"_You aim here and here Charlie." Krythan instructed gesturing to holes forehead and torso of her paper target that she had pulled up for example. "Instant kill. If they come close enough to you for them to be a danger, I don't want them getting up to have a second chance at hurting you."_

"_They also wouldn't want to be alive when Krythan comes for them." Vahn said quietly behind him._

"_Wh-why?" Charlie looked between his two friends nervously._

"_I was in the CIA," Krythan told him coolly, "but that's a story for another day."_

. : - : .

"I'm being monitored." Charlie spoke into his cell phone, pacing the floor of his bedroom. "There's no way I can lose the bodyguard, and even if I do manage to ditch the federal agent, Don will get notified right away. I can't go with you Greg."

Gregory Williamson stared out the window of the motel room he rented. "Charlie, we need to establish contact with the rest of the team. We need to find x and n."

"I know, I know that," Charlie pressed the heel of his palm over his eyes. "I can tell you where they'll most likely have left messages for me, if they did. You can bring me the data here and I'll work on it."

"No, Charlie this is more serious than that," Greg took a breath; he had hoped it wouldn't come to this. "You need to check in with the team, the team needs to hear from _you_. You're the Third in Command Charlie."

"No." Charlie whispered, "No, that can't be."

"You remember when the soldiers stopped bothering you? You think that just showing them that you can shoot at a paper target gets their respect?" Greg challenged. "They're military men - and they follow orders. You passed the firearms training, allowing you to be certified as an operative, and Krythan makes you her Third. No one touches you after that, they wouldn't dare."

"But, but that was years ago. And I left the service." Charlie argued.

"It doesn't matter, a technicality. The team knows the chain of command. Krythan and Vahn never retracted your rank. You know how Frynd-Sign works. It didn't matter because in active and field missions when the First and Second commanding officers are indisposed, whoever has the highest rank present will step up. But we're not on an active mission. We need _your orders_ to move out. You need to establish contact Charlie."

When he exhaled, the mathematician's breath was shaking.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"_There was noise. Blood." And it all came back. Gun shoots around him, cold metal to his back, in his hands, the pressure of his finger on the trigger; the spray of red across his visions and spreading out on enemies, colleagues, friends. _

"_I never knew fear, until that moment." Until where Don had always presented safety, came the notion that even Don couldn't save him from some things. When he had been away, at the base, on sites, in the middle of gunfire, Don had always been his haven. That if and when he got home, Don would be there, and as long as Don was there, no one would be able to hurt him. Even with the sniper case, his belief held because while he had been shot at, Don wasn't there beside him, it had been David. But the concept was shattered with the bullet flaying past his head, inches from him, with Don right there by his side unable to do anything until it would have been too late. _

_Don couldn't save him from everything. That hurt him the most._

"_I realize the only thing I'm really afraid of is being afraid again." He wasn't afraid of death, he had seen death. He had seen a lot of death, and murder and killings. But being afraid, freezing up, other people dying because of him - he couldn't do that again. He thought he left that behind._

. : - : .

"Hey Don, Victor Helm woke up, gave us his statement that he was here to visit his girlfriend. Checks out, girlfriend got a call the day Helm left base and she was expecting him when he didn't show up." Colby closed his notepad. "Helm's team just returned from a mission and he decided to take a personal leave to de-stress instead of heading back out into the field. Mentioned his old buddy Greg and he said that he found out Williamson was on leave at the same time, thought they might get together for a chat but nothing else."

Don bit his lip, "They weren't close, but they do go on leave from the military at the same time, and they plan to get together and chat. Could somebody be trying to stop them from getting together? Something the two of them knew, but others didn't want the information to be exchanged?"

"But their service records say they haven't served together for at least 3 years. Change of teams and then a transfer."

"Information stays sensitive for years after the fact in the military." Colby cut in.

"Well, see if you can connect our third guy." Megan said getting off the phone, "James Iverson, early forties, voluntary discharge from the army after the war. Runs an independent security consulting firm, was shot at by a drive-by two hours ago but uninjured."

All the guys scrambled for their jackets. "A new guy a day, huh?"

"Thankfully no fatalities yet," Don remarked.

"Not for the lack of effort." Megan muttered, "But if there was a profile for the victims the perpetrator just broke it. Jason is older then our other guys, hasn't actively served in the army for years, and he's only half-Asian but looks pure."

"Well maybe we're just not looking at this right." Don said as they piled into the elevator. "There has to be something that connects the three of them, we just have to find it."

. : - : .

"_This way Charlie." Krythan herded him down the pristine hallway. _

_Charlie was preoccupied twisting his head every which way, trying to let the fact sink in that he was really in the Pentagon. "I can't believe we're really here."_

"_Sure beats the Middle East and blazing hot deserts doesn't it?" Krythan asked rhetorically about the other locations they had been visited for missions. _

"_There is something to be said about straight forward combat." Vahn murmured. _

"_What are we doing here?" Charlie asked, "You didn't tell me what they wanted with you this time."_

"_That's because it isn't us they want to see this time." Krythan told him amusedly. _

"_What?"_

"_This time we're your attachments." Krythan explained, "Someone important wants to talk to you, about consulting on a project for them. Everything you were trained for originally."_

. : - : .

Charlie paced the length of his room, variables and algorithms flying through his head. Trying to think of a way to get in touch with his old teammates but also trying to think about what to tell them. Krythan made contact but it wasn't clear what had happened. Continually running through his head was _n–1 _and _Third in Command._ Charlie threaded a hand through his hair. He didn't get it, how this was possible.

In the years since he was twenty three and left the service, he had barely seen Krythan once a year, twice if he was lucky. Vahn and Krythan would stop by when they were on a mission near California. They would contact him, he would clear his schedule and they would talk, catch up, see each other's faces, soaking in the others presence. That was not to say that was the only contact Charlie had with them, when ever he made a new break through, published a new paper, he received several anonymous email from them; the contact wasn't regular, but Charlie always replied, and hoped that they were doing okay, surviving to the next day. But Third. He knew Krythan and Vahn kept tabs of his circumstances, their congratulations for every achievement and the personal visit they paid him when they found out he started consulting for the FBI verified it.

Charlie had walked out of a bookstore, turned the corner and was pulled to the side, Krythan's brown hair streaked with blonde highlights, striking blue eyes staring into his. She had pulled him into a small alley in the blind spot of all surrounding surveillance. He had felt the solid presence of a male body behind his and Charlie knew it was Vahn.

His friends had wanted to know if he really knew what he was getting into, if he was really clear on what he was doing. Sapphire eyes searched his when he had explained how he had gotten involved with the FBI.

"Are you going to live your life for him?" Krythan asked bluntly. She had always cut to the point quick.

Once upon a time she wouldn't have even bothered to ask but years changed things. Charlie was tempted to lean back into Vahn, have those solid, muscular arms come around him, closing him off from the world; Krythan in front, Vahn in the back, Charlie in their arms at the center. They had been his protectors: _we can protect you from everything_, Krythan had once whispered. But they weren't his anymore, and the one he wanted to protect him wasn't them.

His smile had been small, faint but real. "I want to help him," he told them, conviction unwavering beneath the soft tone. Krythan and Vahn had nodded.

His cell phone vibrated pulling him out of his thought, he hastily pulled it out.

_f(x) = -x-(-n) = c = 1_

Charlie breathed out then quickly replied to the unfamiliar number.

_c = n-1 = -x_

The calculus was wrong but that wasn't the point. Charlie didn't get a reply but he hadn't expected one. He pressed his cell phone to his lips and even in the midst of trepidation, closed his eyes in relief. Vahn was found.

. : - : .

_Charlie feels the absence of the weight of his gun starkly. Not that he misses having it, but he feels the empty space it leaves behind after carrying it with him for so long. The buildings are so tall and the traffic is so loud compared to before. Being back in civilization after weeks of being at the base, Afghanistan, Israel, military ports, being back in the city of Los Angeles was different. He feels exposed, the teenagers beside him bursting into spontaneous laughter makes him flinch. His back itches, signaling his mind that he was open to enemy fire, no one at his six. But this is his life now, again. _

_His eyes are sunken, large bags appearing on his face. His parents are noticing that he doesn't sleep much, but he spends his time in the garage and they assume that he's getting lost in the math instead of closing his eyes and see dead people's face. They bring him food as he scribbles on the blackboards and they never know that under the first level of calculations he' substituting all the names of the people he knows is dead for every variable that gets scratched out from the equations. _

_Don is in the FBI, his parents are so proud even while they worry. He's out there saving people. _

_Charlie feels raw, sanded down to a miniscule version of who he was before. He doesn't know how to tell them that it's too late for him to be saved. _

. : - : .

"Mr. Iverson." Colby Granger said knocking on the office door. "I'm Agent Colby Granger and my partner Agent David Sinclair."

David nodded. "Hi. We would like to ask you a few questions."

James Iverson leaned back in his chair, easy smile but brown eyes assessing them. "How can I help you gentlemen?"

"We heard you were shot at yesterday Mr. Iverson." Colby walked around the room, picking up a paper weight and stared the man in the eyes. "We tried to get in touch with you yesterday, but you were unavailable."

Iverson leaned his elbows on his desk, "You get shot at a lot playing human shield to the rich and famous. It wasn't anything too out of the ordinary for me, so I went back to work."

"Where were you yesterday after the incident Mr. Iverson?" David asked.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that." Iverson said apologetically, "I can't discuss any details of my assignments; I have a confidentiality contract with my clients."

David and Colby traded a look. "So you don't think yesterday's incident was irregular?"

"Some days I'm surprised I'm not shot at more often." Iverson said dryly, "The rich doesn't mean pure, gentlemen. Money makes a lot of enemies."

The two FBI agents gave the man his point. "Why do you think you were shot at yesterday Mr. Iverson?"

"Again, the confidentiality issue." Iverson threaded his fingers, "Why don't you tell me why the FBI is interested? Maybe then I can try to give you something."

Colby placed the paper weight back on the table, "There have been some recent shootings of soldiers on leave. We think your shooter is the same one who tried to get the others."

Iverson's face grew concerned, "I hope the others are alright."

"There have been no fatalities," David reassured, "both men are recovering and should be fine."

"We thought with your own military past, your incident might be related. But your profile does break the pattern from the previously targets." Colby pulled out his note book and tore off a page, "I'll leave you our number. If something happens that you think might be of use to our investigation, please give us a call."

"Of course," Iverson said, standing to take the folded page. "I wish you luck on your investigation gentlemen."

David smiled, "thank you."

Colby nodded as they were escorted to the door by Iverson, where then the secretary looked up from her desk to direct the men out of the building.

"What do you think?" Colby asked when they were in the clear.

"I don't know." David replied, "He does have a point, it could be unrelated to us, he does have his own cases with his own enemies."

"Well, Megan said he broke the profile." Colby reminded.

Back in the building James Iverson was looking out his window, making a call from his untraceable, secure line. "You were right Vic." James said, eyes dark. "The FBI was just here but I threw them off the scent. They don't know the reason why we were all targeted. I tried to notify everyone I could contact yesterday, have you heard anything?" Jason breathed in sharply at the replying murmur, closing his eyes to the bright LA day in pain. "God rest his soul. He shall be missed."

. : - : .

"_Do you have someone who you'd give everything for?" Krythan asks him._

Don,_ Charlie immediately thinks but doesn't say._

_Krythan looks at him, then smiles lopsided. "I guess you do. So you understand why."_

. : - : .

Jessica Cale stood alone as they lowered the casket into the ground. She watched dried eyed as family and friends murmured condolences to each other and waited for the crowd to thin out. The sister, the only immediate family member the dead had been close to, came over to stand by Jessica.

"Thank you," the sister said softly, "for bringing him back from the war."

Jessica Cale, NSA Agent, had left the service and the war five years ago with the deceased. "That was a long time ago."

"I know," she whispered, "and he was never the same after."

"Not all of us were ready to leave." Jessica told her staring straight ahead. "He loved his team and it was hard when they were gone. He wanted to go down fighting."

The sister nodded.

"He would have been happy about his death." Jessica said evenly. "He took those assholes down with him."

"Thank you." The sister whispered, knowing that the female agent technically wasn't supposed to have told her that.

Jessica pulled out her sunglasses and flicked the handles up, "We walked out of Frynd-Sign together. There aren't many who can take our place."

"Will they assign you a new partner?"

Jessica slid the dark glasses on, "Something I should ask my superiors."

"The Agency said they were giving you some time off."

Jessica walked away without another word.


	6. Chapter 6

I meant to upload this at the same time as the last chapter, a double feature! But my internet connection died on me halfway through the upload, so, here's the next chapter the next day.

This is basically a recap chapter of everything Frynd-Sign!Charlie. And those of you who are wondering about the calculus, yes it will be explained later on. I don't like stumping my readers, =)

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

Charlie knows that he gets increasingly more signs from his father that he doesn't want him working with the FBI. But the deeper he's sinking the harder it is to pull out and he doesn't want to. He's missed this: being part of a team, doing good, seeing his equations come into action.

Being part of the Frynd-Sign team was the first time Charlie had been accepted unconditionally, even including his family. Charlie was loved, but he knew that sometimes Don couldn't tolerate him and his parents can't understand him. In the team, it didn't matter if they didn't understand - they valued him and everything he did. They were interested and they were his friends. They wanted to be with him when all his family could do was push him into the school system.

The years spent with the Frynd-Sign Company were the best and most volatile years of his life.

Being eighteen and returning to the base, constantly in Krythan's notice. His hormonal teenage body reacting every time Krythan bent over his shoulder, touched his arm, stood close to him. Krythan smiling, knowing, after the first day he arrived on base stuttering and blushing every time he was in her vicinity; stumbling after her in her private quarters after leaning in and kissing her when she turned to ask him a question; her soft reassurances and her mouth pressing down on his as she led him towards her bedroom.

Waking up the next morning, walking out shyly from her empty room to stop dead in his tracks as Vahn stood waiting, leaning on the opposite wall of her hallway, waiting for him. Paling as he realized he'd forgotten that Krythan and Vahn shared quarters and possibly more. Stutters, voice dying in his throat, and blood draining from his face; trying to form an explanation, half bumbling along with random mathematics injected, ranting intelligibly under Vahn's cool gaze. Then silence, breath stopped in his throat as Vahn leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his lips, blue eyes never wavering. Left standing alone in the hallway, trembling hand reaching up to touch his lips in wonder.

That summer only half the nights did he spend in his own bed; then the night when he finally gathered up his courage and knocked on Vahn's door, holding his breath as the tall, reserved man opened the door and gestured him in. Vahn was gentle, thorough, and when he woke up the next morning he was held securely in his arms while Krythan sat in a chair next to the bed, reading a report like nothing was wrong.

They never defined it, but Charlie knew whenever he was with them, he was loved.

Being nineteen and feeling a young officer's gaze on him, turning around to see him constantly in his peripheral, emerald gaze always trailing after him. Eyes dropping, heart hammering, avoiding popular routes thinking he was going to be bullied once more. Krythan taking him aside, brushing a soft kiss to his ear, "Anderson's in love with you, you know?" Eye flying up to see the young officer's dark gaze on Krythan and Charlie's shared space before dropping down. Krythan smiling beside him as the realization hit and heart pounding in his chest, unknowing of what the implications meant.

Avoiding Anderson even more, taking long extended paths to get to his destinations to avoid the military man, hiding in Vahn's quarters to avoid eating in the mess hall. Then heart in throat sitting in the communication room at the base as Anderson and his unit reported their mission FUBAR, the young officer's steady voice on speaker telling them that they were going to take out as many enemies as they could going down, completing the mission, and how proud he was of having served in Krythan's command. Krythan swearing a blue streak reminding them; '_I told you I don't need big god damn heroes in my command! I need you idiots to come back alive!'_

Charlie grabbing the communication unit from Krythan, breath shaking as he inhaled and exhaled rapidly. Knuckles white around the black radio and Krythan turned to watch him in long, silent, moments: _'Bring them home Charlie.'_ A big breath, eyes meeting Krythan's then Vahn's before turning back to the receiver: _'You want me,' _Charlie said_, 'you have to be alive to come get me.'_ Silence for long moments on the other end, then the fatal buzz of a dropped line.

Waking up several days later, body finally succumbing to exhaustion for a few hours of sleep, to see Anderson framed in the doorway of his room. Fresh from a shower the dark hair and green eyes both shimmering with hope as Charlie, finally, approached instead of running.

Krythan and Vahn still loved him, Charlie stilled loved Krythan and Vahn, but they stepped back from being physical lovers, allowing Anderson to have the promised chance. Spending time in each other's quarters, the only place for privacy, talking, getting familiar with one another, allowing Anderson to have the chance to romance Charlie. Soft, tender touches, almost reverent; slow, beaming smiles shared between the two men; familiar, comforting weight of a gaze. Warm, welcome arms coming around him in the late night as he practiced at the shooting range, aligning with him, a larger body encompassing his; every recoil sending him to the warm chest. Green eyes smiling into his, large capable hands protecting him, and trying really really hard to fall in love with Anderson.

Trying to stop turning around and expecting Don when things got bad.

Many trips to the base and numerous encounters, and a year and a half later returning from a mission, sitting the bedside vigil of Anderson as the infirmary doctors tell him the young officer has another hour, too much internal bleeding then they could repair. Holding the hand of the man he loved, even if he hadn't been able to fall in love with, tears streaming down his cheeks, muttering denials as Anderson thanks him for the year they had together, for the chance at happiness they shared. Sitting there long past the second Anderson's eyes closed, breathing stopped, and heart monitor making one long continuous beep.

Krythan and Vahn helping him through it, taking him back into the fold, loving him physically as much as emotionally again when he needed it. Charlie's despair and guilt for Anderson's death and not being able to love Anderson as he had wanted, as he had deserved. Feeling the cold recycled air at his back as he shot bullet after bullet into a bull's eye in the dark of night.

Charlie's twenty and this time he flies to England instead of California. Cambridge was waiting for him and the new landscape offered some solace, he didn't have to explain to his parents why he looked so broken. Susan meets him when he's lost and confused; she was so light, so uncomplicated and exactly what he needed after Anderson. A scientist and not a military officer, a civilian and not a trained operative, soft curve instead of hard planes, a flirtation instead of concealed meetings; nothing in her to remind Charlie of his failings with Anderson. Nothing too often. She would smile, tilt her head in a certain way, tease him, and this time he didn't even try – he let the relationship grow as it would, whether it would end up in love or not, he wasn't going to push it.

He stopped fighting and feeling shame every time Don came to his mind, only took a breath, accepted it and moved on from the moment. He traveled increasingly more and more often to the base, to mission sites, and Susan would see him off with a smile – no pressure, not tight hugs hidden in alcoves, no whispered words of _'come back to me. Come back alive.'_ She would watch him get picked up, wave him off from the front door, call him at the phone number he left, they would speak of easy, mundane, everyday things like classes and dishes and whose turn it was to do the laundry; no feverish, fervent embraces in the dark, no hot, heavy breaths thanking all the gods they came back alive, no panicked, rushed dashes to the infirmary; _'no heroics, you promised no heroics'_.

She was beautiful, and not empty, but simply not enough. They both let their careers lead them; it took first place over everything, even each other. She felt she was too young to be tied down, he wasn't sure he was willing to take the chance again. Then Charlie left for the last job, the last mission. The base was attacked, under lock down and quarantine, they couldn't get back up until 3 weeks later, and a month and a half passed before Charlie came back to Cambridge. They lasted another two months, they tried to hold on, but both could see the end.

Charlie turned down the next mission, he couldn't do it. He walked away from the service. He wasn't the only one; many other were walking with him. Moyne held his best friend in his arms as she bled out. Yami arrived a second too late to save his team leader. James never fully recovered from the injury.

Krythan and Vahn understood. Krythan lost 97 of the 150 soldiers under her command in the three weeks it took for back up to arrive. She lost another 14 from extensive injuries that the doctors couldn't fix. Krythan talked about disbanding the Frynd-Sign Company. She wasn't made to be a leader anyways, she told the higher ups when they questioned her, she had only became head of a military team in a quirk of fate and two missions colliding through a bad situation. She was going to return to the CIA, Vahn was going back with her. The rest of the soldiers would be offered the choice of honorable discharge or to be transferred to different companies.

Charlie agreed to continue consulting but he asked for a discharge. A discharge, funny when he hadn't set out to be an operative at all. He moved back to Los Angeles, submerged himself in his work, took a position at CalSci for teaching mathematics, and tried to cope with as much as he could and bury the rest. It worked.

It worked well enough until Don came home one day and left his case files of a serial rapist on the dining room table.


	7. Chapter 7

This was ready to be posted a while back, but I kept sitting on it...and in the mean time I've accumulated a lot of silent readers, so in return, two chapters in this update!

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

A select number of cellular phones around the nations beeped with one message.

_From: Unknown_

_Message: Find light._

. : - : .

Don was frustrated. The progress on the case was slow but he was also glad, ever since the last incidence of James Iverson, which may or may not be related, there had been no more reported shootings that fit their profile. He was frustrated because that meant that Helm and Williamson could be the only targets and Charlie was in possible danger by association. But they'd found no leads and no more shootings meant that the perpetrator was still out there, but it didn't feel like the prep was biding their time. The shootings could have been someone with a grudge with the military in general and moved on from the targets, as there were no unusual movements around and from both victims in the past days, or the shooter had realized that killing the soldiers would not achieve their goals in any way and stopped the shootings.

And on the side other cases piling up that and unless there was some kind of breakthrough, they were going to have to close the current case as unsolved and move on to others where they could actually make progress.

"I might have found something." Megan said suddenly from her station. They stood by as she pulled the printing documents off the printer and flipped through the pages. "I don't know if this has any relevance but dig back into their pasts far enough and they all seemed to have served in the Frynd-Sign Company."

Colby interrupted, "The band of misfits?"

They turned to him.

Colby looked around to see he had their attention, "I don't know much about them. They were before my time, but if you spend time in covert ops you heard about them: a company of eccentric soldiers who were under the command of an even more eccentric leader. But there are stories of how they pulled off some crazy maneuvers, and survived impossible odds. Apparently they had an unconventional approach in their strategies, but I don't know anymore then that."

"Unconventional?" Megan repeated.

Colby shrugged, "What the rumors say, but you couldn't always trust what they said about the Frynd-Sign."

"And why's that?" Don asked.

"Well," Colby began dryly, "half the time we weren't sure if the Frynd-Sign company even existed. And if they did we weren't sure if any of them were sane. The stunts they pulled could have made them certifiable. They were also supposed to be commanded by a woman." Colby shrugged at their stares, "It's the military. A decade ago, that high up and in covert-ops? Anyways it's like half the company was immortal; people would swear they should have died several times over as the missions they took seemed more often then not suicidal. People still don't know how they tracked their members, because they always seemed to find their lost teams. Some the stuff they did was legend. Soldiers wished to be assigned to Frynd-Sign and hoped that they never were."

Don flipped through the pages then inserted them into a folder on Megan's desk, "Well there's your proof. They exist," he spread the photos of Gregory Williamson's slung arm and Victor Helm's bullet wound on top, "and they're just as human as the rest of us. Now that we've found a connection, run it. I want to know why they might be targeted and go talk to all three of the guys again, ask them on the new angle. Also, see if you can ask your friends in the military about it Colby."

They all nodded in acknowledgement and the ex-army soldier waited until his boss was out of ear shot. "He sure knows how to bust a boy's dreams." Colby muttered.

David smiled and knocked him on the shoulder in support.

. : - : .

"_We're not heroes; we're soldiers. We're not the ones to go out in a blaze of glory; we're the ones who are never remembered. Do your job right and we don't even exist." Krythan stood tall in front of the new band of troops, initiating them into the Company. "We're _ghosts_. We are covert-ops. If you're looking to be remembered-" Krythan paused, giving them a disparaging glance, "_get out_." _

_The assembled soldiers watched her in varying emotions but none broke formation._

_Krythan gave them one last moment and continued, "We do not tolerate insubordination. We do not tolerate stupidity. I will suffer no so-called heroics. Yes – __**I **_**–**_ command this Company. If you have a problem with that I give you this offer: fight me, take me down and the Company's yours–" Blue eyes were ice, "but you better make sure I _stay_ down. Otherwise you will never walk away standing or ever get back up again."_

_Silence._

"_First and last objective: complete the mission." She paused, "First and last objective: get out alive." She let them soak in the contradiction, "If you can't do both, you don't belong here. This isn't training camp and this isn't your home-away-from-home. You wonder why you're here?" She looked at the curious eyes staring at her, "Ask yourself: who wants you dead?" Her lips curled up, "This is Frynd-Sign boys. We take the hardest, most difficult, and improbable missions. We are given the dredges and take in the worst. You are here because no one took you, you are here because no one _wanted_ you - you are here because someone wanted to get rid of you and threw you our way." _

_Krythan stood back, crossed her arms, and waited for them to contradict her. Anger, defiance, and shame coiled in the assembled eyes but they stayed quiet. "But once in a while, we also get the best." She motioned to the side and Charlie meekly stepped forward, feeling every pair of eyes on him as he made his way to stand beside Krythan. "Once in a while we get the _fucking incomparable_. This is Charlie Eppes, and he is your superior; strategic commander; and as far as you need to be concerned – he is your fucking _god_ if he says he is. If he wants you to camp out in the middle of nowhere in the sweltering dead lands for three days waiting for an ambush – _you do it_. If he tells you to run in a straight line through live enemy fire – _you do it_." Charlie felt himself flushing at the incredulous stares as Krythan continued, "And if he tells you that you're coming back alive from an out numbered, underpowered, black-listed suicidal mission – _you are_." _

_She paused as the soldiers blinked. _

"_He's is Frynd-Sign's Tactician and he's going to show us what fucking kind of jewel-in-the-rough you are. Listen to us and maybe you'll become someone worth something."_

. : - : .

Late Monday morning and Charlie lined up for coffee in a popular local café near campus. The store was small but it made really good coffee and the lines weren't so long that the prodigy mathematician minded waiting, if it looked like a long wait he would just open a notebook to scribble on, as he was doing now.

Numbers were always present, always there. Numbers were everything and everywhere, and that gave immense comfort to Charlie because numbers never went missing; only waiting to be found. They didn't fade away; they didn't disappear like how people seemed to do sometimes. Numbers never perished, like another great man had done a few days ago. Numbers weren't mortal and Charlie didn't ever have to mourn them like he had spent all of yesterday with Greg as somewhere another member of Frynd-Sign was lowered to the ground. Charlie's hand was shaking, the variables on the paper becoming misshapen, and he clenched the pen tight; turning away from that train of thought to focus totally on the equations.

An older businessman in a suit stepped in line behind the university professor and he crowded forward as the line moved and more people went to stand behind him. The pen paused as a warm hand settled a comfortable weight on the low dip of Charlie's back. The shape and contour of the appendage was familiar and the presence behind him, beloved. Charlie tried not to tremble, emotions and shakes just underneath the surface, waiting to break free. The line moved and the hand applied a steady force to carry Charlie's weight forward but never lost contact.

_Vahn._

Charlie took care to breathe and not sob, face directed downward at the page, curls falling to obscure bright shimmering eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

"I'll meet you in your office." Low words murmured into his ear before it was suddenly his turn to order.

The hand pushed him forward to the counter where Charlie placed his order, keeping his head down for fear of unsettling the barista, and it took every bit of control in him when he received the coffee and turned to walk away, not to twist and look at the man behind him with every hope and fear in his eyes.

Walking away without looking back was something Charlie always found hard to do.

But soon he was sitting in his office because duty wasn't new, and neither was this game. Placing his cup down he carefully arranged his papers on the desk and closing the drapes to block out the bright afternoon sun, swiping the black boards, he made himself look busy. When he sat Charlie focused intently on the documents in front of him so that he looked totally absorbed and people pausing by took one glance before deciding that they would be ignored and walked away.

Today there was no FBI agent standing outside or just inside the office door, as there had been no signs of the mysterious shooter continuing the campaign and the LA office couldn't afford to spare its men to guard for non-emergency parameters.

Walking down the hall a young university undergraduate had his shoulders hunched underneath the weight of the books in his backpack, black hair falling into his face as he darted casual glances right and left to make sure not to bump into anyone as he read his advanced mathematics book. Turning the corner into the math wing where the professor's offices were located he barely knocked on the door before stepping in and closing the door behind him, to ensure a private conversation between him and the professor.

Charlie looked up, half ready to apologize to kicking the student out and half with his heart in his throat because he knew who it most likely would be.

Charlie had always been good at probability analysis.

Walking from the doorway to the chair the student let his windbreaker and backpack slide off and gained several inches as he straightened his shoulders. A fair face became beautiful as the man look up and intelligent blue eyes shone with deep intelligence. The passable young man turned out to be a man well into his prime with striking features that made him unforgettable.

"Vahn." Charlie breathed as he got up and stepped into the older man's arms.

"I'm glad you're well." The other man whispered back.

Charlie shook and clenched his hands tight in the material of the shirt. He made a sound, but it was neither high nor low and broke out in sobs.

The tears he had been holding back yesterday and ever since the news that Gryffin Beck had fallen last Friday under an eruption of fire and a rain of bullets, broke free. Vahn rocked him gently as the emotions came pouring out. When Charlie stepped back a patch of the other man's shirt was soaked but it wasn't very noticeable in the black shirt. Charlie sniffed and rubbed his sleeved over his nose and face.

A long familiar hand settled on top of the curls and brushed them back in a nostalgic intimate gesture. "Better?"

"Yeah." Charlie said hoarsely.

Charlie had never been very good at distancing himself from the other soldiers in the Company. Whenever someone died, went missing in action, or suffered a severe injury, his emotions always burst out. When the Company was hurt Krythan would get angry, Vahn retreated further into himself, and Charlie cried.

Instead of returning around the table Charlie seated himself on the edge of the table and Vahn settled into the chair, letting long legs stretch out to either side of Charlie's feet.

"What was your last mission?" Charlie finally asked after long moments of comfortable silence.

"Someone in the Senate was selling confidential information." Vahn revealed quietly, "We traced it back to Senator Kinsey but he has lots of corporations and various figure heads backing him. I infiltrated his household through a fund raiser he hosted, but while there Krythan noticed something and before I could pull out, they traced the radio frequency back to Krythan. She disconnected the communication before they could find who was on the other end and we've been separated since."

"That was…"

"12 days ago." Vahn told him.

12 days ago. Greg was shot exactly 6 days ago on last Tuesday, but Krythan's ring arrived by post and Greg would have had to had advanced notice to plan the trip. Victor would have needed time to request leave as well. So approximately some time between 12 to 7 days ago Krythan suspected that her Company might be in danger.

"What did she notice?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know." Vahn replied, disquieted. "She didn't tell me. But it was something important."

It had to be. Krythan was never easily distracted and she always carried out the mission, to blotch one was a very rare occurrence and that was usually because of other people's mistakes.

"What was the information?"

Vahn looked at him.

Charlie stared back but the other man was unwavering. Charlie's hand gripped the edges of his table, knuckles going white. "Vahn." Charlie whispered, "Don't make me call Bob."

The older man didn't sigh but wry amusement tinged his tone. "That man loves you too much."

"Does he?" Charlie tried saying lightly.

"No." Vahn said somberly. "If he didn't we would have never left you with him."

While Krythan and Vahn were in the military, they were first CIA agents. They had only entered the army chain of command through an unusual set of circumstances. While they were in the military on loan from the CIA, sometimes they still got assignments when they were convenient or inconvenient if it fit their skills best. On those times in the field Krythan and Vahn would leave Charlie with the Company or if they were on one of Charlie's consulting projects the two agents would shuttle the prodigy into the company of the best guarded individual.

Robert Tompkins having the privilege of being both a man of high standing as the Assistant Director of the NSA, as well as requiring the services of Charlie's analytical mind, was often the chosen man of choice. Being an old acquaintance of Krythan's, the first time it occurred she had knocked on the Assistant Director's door, pushed the young boy through, politely enquired if Charlie and Bob could keep each other company, and thanked them before walking out and disappearing down the hallway with Vahn. Both men stared at the closed door in silence before smiling at each other, Charlie rather nervously.

It happened several times but it worked out well, Charlie allowed Robert to work in silence as he worked on his own equations. Robert was on hand when Charlie needed clarification on the consultation assignment and Charlie was a very logical mind for when Robert was tiring and had to discern facts from political babble. The two men enjoyed the other's company and it became a routine. Soon they became friends and were each other's allies in times when political opposition tried to corner them.

Krythan and Vahn always made sure Charlie was protected, sometimes they were overprotective, almost never allowing him to travel anywhere alone, but they also gave him every freedom. They followed him but they never told him where he couldn't go. They left him with the Company and Robert but he was free to roam the base or the buildings. He wanted to see the site of where the damage occurred and the plot of land was lined with Frynd-Sign soldiers and snipers on high but Charlie walked haphazardly through the sand, soil, and grit for hours without interruption.

He never knew how much he appreciated that and treasured it until walking away and going back into civilian life; until working with Don and they argued over and over about Charlie's skills, where he should practice them, whether it was safe, how much trust Don put into Charlie's math but not in _Charlie_.

It had almost been suffocating, feeling boxed in by Don's need to compartmentalize everything in his life. Being distrusted about his competence, about where Charlie should practice his skills: behind a desk and closed doors because it wasn't safe.

_So make it safe! _Charlie wanted to yell but never would. Because he couldn't tell Don how once upon a time Charlie had walked unafraid in a field of spilled blood, shattered encampments, and scattered rain of bullet shells while Don was still learning what the true ricochet of a gun was.

Once upon a time Charlie had been safe, safer then Don could make him.

Safer and more loved between the Company and the high friends and consultants and Krythan and Vahn.

"Vahn." Charlie beseeched.

"The Senator was selling the information on how to make a nuclear bomb." Vahn said calmly, "And where to find the materials."

"That's…that's treason?" Charlie choked out. "Who, who was he selling it to?"

"Who ever pays the highest price."

Charlie swallowed and the implications. "That's dangerous."

"He's definitely willing to protect his own interests."

And Krythan was on the run from this man. Charlie reached up and gripped the ring through his shirt. Vahn watched the hand rise and clutched below the collar. "Trust her Charlie. Trust us. We know what we're doing."

Charlie took a breath and slowly pulled the chain out, the silver ring dangling from the length.

Vahn's eyes were dark.

"She hasn't made contact?" Charlie whispered.

"Not yet." The older man replied, "I'm going to keep searching and keep ways open."

"If you get me the mission parameters and forward me the blue print of the house and surrounding areas, with the information about who and what profession they were in attendance I can do some basic calculations and-"

Vahn stood up and threading a hand through the curls, cupping the back of Charlie's head, he tilted it up and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I want you to stay safe. You don't owe your life to Krythan."

"And you do?" Charlie rasped.

"I have something I need to prove to her." Vahn replied in that quiet tone. "I can't die until that happens."

"Vahn…"

"They're tracking the members through internal networks. Right now they've only gone after the prominent members, and we sealed all the records of the ones who left for civilian life. You're also now affiliated with many various teams and organizations. You're connection to Frynd-Sign Company is minimal; it's buried underneath everything else. It's safest this way. Don't do anything to bring yourself to their attention."

"I'm not abandoning you." Charlie refuted, eyes stinging, "I'm part of Frynd-Sign too. I'm _proud_ to be part ofph."

Charlie was cut off as the other man leaned forward and kissed him. Charlie let his mouth widen and Vahn explored and revisited the familiar grooves and soft crevasses of the younger man. Charlie shuddered and pulled himself tight against his old lover. Vahn tucked Charlie into the unyielding lines of his body and Charlie tilted his head and let himself melt into the support.

They fit. They had almost always fit.

They separated only when the need air was too demanding to ignore. They breathed heavily and Charlie's eyes fluttered closed as Vahn brushed soft kisses over the lids.

"You are part of Frynd-Sign, never doubt that." Vahn murmured.

"Why did you make me Third?" Charlie's voice came out timid, "Why did you ever think I would do a good job?"

"Because you do. Because you _are_. Alpha-Bravo-Charlie, Charlie."

Charlie choked on a laugh. Krythan was Alpha unit, Vahn was Bravo. Charlie was Charlie. "That's a stupid reason." Charlie whispered.

"Well then," Vahn lips trailing over the skin of his cheek, brushing up the lines of his face, "how about because you're the third of us. You're the last one to finish our triangle. The strongest shape."

Charlie collapsed, holding on tight to the conviction and strength beneath the words.

"Does it matter why?" Vahn asked, "You're a part of us. Part of Frynd-Sign. Not of the Company. Of Frynd-Sign." _We love you_.

Charlie clenched his eyes to the unvoiced but blatantly clear words. "I want to make you proud." _The both of you._

"Silly boy." Vahn chided, "You already have."

"Vahn."_ Krythan._

"I can't be here Charlie," and Charlie wasn't sure who was speaking to him anymore in those low tones but affectionate words, Vahn's lips sneaking down the lines of his neck but breath flowing over the silver ring on the shallow of his collar bone. "The Company will come for you. Lead them as you see fit. They'll protect you."

Charlie moaned, calloused fingers sweeping up under his shirt and up the sensitive skin of his back; legs falling apart to frame a strong, solid thigh. "Please." He whimpered.

He didn't know what he was begging for, and it's been so long since someone had touched him liked this. So sure, strong, familiar, knowing and proprietarily. He missed this. He missed being touched. He missed being allowed to touch as he racked up Vahn's shirt and slipped his own hands onto smooth skin.

"Shhh. Shhh. It's okay, my baby boy." Vahn soothed and Charlie realized he had tears gathering in his eyes, droplets sneaking out under his lashes.

His emotions were haywire and his body was strung tight. His mind was hazy with too many thoughts but all his body wanted release, rutting against the solid warmth of the other's body.

"Just let it go. Just let it all go." Vahn murmured, flicking open the button of Charlie's jeans and pulling the zipper down. "I wish we had a bed, you're always so beautiful undone."

Charlie gave a strangled noise, and moved once, twice, three times before his vision erupted into white, then black.

When he woke up he was laid out on a makeshift couch, as comfortable as the pull out and all the cushions in his office could make him, a jacket covering him; alone.

He reached up to curl his fingers around the still warm ring and breathed in the spicy scent of Vahn still lingering on the jacket.

_Lead them as you see fit. They'll protect you._

"Alright." Charlie breathed. "Alright."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Charlie sat up on the couch, elbows on knees, staring at his phone, thumb moving back and forth over the tiny screen. The message was sparse and it hadn't changed since the time he got it. He paused his thumb in mid-movement, the screen reading: _f(x) = c = 1._

_c = 1. _Charlie's breath was heavy. _Lead them as you see fit._

He was in charge. "Vahn," he whispered, "what do you want me to do?"

_Lead them as you see fit._

Charlie bit his lip, silent for a moment, until he got up and put the phone away. He needed to do something. There were decisions to be made, even if he didn't know which ones, but nothing would happen if he continued to sit around waiting. He packed up his work and draped the windbreaker over his arm. He needed to go home and shower, get a change of clothes and see someone about starting to make those decisions. Opening the door of his office and stepping out he almost crashed into a familiar face.

"Charlie," Amita took a balancing step back, smiling up at him, "I was just looking for you."

"Oh, oh you were?" Charlie stuttered, "What, um what about?"

"Well, no one's seen you since you ended your morning lecture and people said you looked busy, your door was closed." She said, "We left you alone but its late afternoon Charlie, did you even eat lunch yet?"

He looked away. He had a coffee; he had bought a coffee earlier. But he had set the cup down on his desk and by the time he woke up and got to it, it was cold and he had lost all desire for food or drink.

"I thought so." Amita said amused, "So. I thought since you didn't have any more classes today, we could grab a bite to eat."

He stared at her. He knew they had been going somewhere. Or both of them were trying and they wanted it to go somewhere, the first person since Susan that he had thought maybe he could be with. Amita was smart and funny, she understood his academic ramblings and his eccentric tendencies. She was few years younger then him, bright and beautiful, indulgent of his genius; like Susan.

Charlie clenched his hands into fists. Susan hadn't been empty, but she hadn't been enough. Charlie had thought maybe this time it didn't matter: Amita didn't have to be 'enough', those volatile times behind him, the pain of loss distanced by time. It hadn't gotten better, Charlie didn't forget but sometimes he chose not to remember; it wasn't the earth-shattering moment that always jumped to his mind first. He learned to live with it.

He learned to live, despite it.

He thought it was done; those days with the big risks and tremendous rewards, of death always on stand by and the awareness of life pulsing through his veins every second. The days of hot summer and blazing sun; the nights of cool heat and his name spoken in wonder like a prayer.

Charlie was just a mathematician now. A professor, one of many. Not The Professor. A consultant, a good one, but not military – just a recruited scientist.

Charlie was normal now, eccentric but what true genius wasn't? A consultant for the FBI but still a normal civilian, no gun clipped to his hip, no soldiers falling in line when he barked orders. No lives, people that he loved, on the line except for Don's – but Don always had back up and the support of the federal bureau. Charlie was just a normal man who went to school and taught math and occasionally helped out his older brother at the work place; he wasn't an operative, he wasn't in charge, and he didn't have blood on his hands.

Charlie breathed.

Charlie was supposed to be a different man, a different man from when he was in the Company and when he was part of Frynd-Sign.

Charlie thought he was, had been, but with the new circumstances, with old friends and treasured people showing up; the memories aren't that far away. The man he was wasn't gone.

Charlie has had two fulfilling relationships in his past; with Krythan and Vahn, and with Anderson. Until the end with Anderson, he was happy. The relationship with Krythan and Vahn never ended.

He and Susan didn't work out and he knows there will always be regrets between them. He doesn't know if Susan ever suspected, or knew, that he had been recovering from being with someone but Charlie had always felt reminders of Anderson's presence, or lack of, between him and Susan starkly.

Amita deserved better. Charlie wants her to have better.

Amita was expecting to be with a different man, the man Charlie had wished and tried to be for the better half of the last decade. But Charlie knew now that as along as he remembered, as long as Frynd-Sign _existed_, he could never be with someone who didn't know. It wouldn't be fair to them, it wouldn't be fair to him.

"I'm sorry." He told her, wishing it hadn't happened like this.

"Oh," she blinked. "That's fine Charlie, if you have something to do. We can always grab a meal some other time."

"Previous engagements have come up." He continued, "Old friends are coming to visit. I'm sorry."

Her smile was tinged with confusion. "That's fine Charlie. I'll see you later then."

He wasn't good at lying, he never was. But he grew good at omitting. "I'm sorry." He repeated, knowing she didn't understand and probably never would, and walked away.

. : - : .

_He told himself he had stopped this. He promised himself when he had tried, really tried, with Anderson that he had moved on from it. When the monitor flat lined and he sat staring at the cooling body of a man who loved him with everything. He was going to stop wishing for Don._

_But now again all he wanted was for Don to be there with him and to have his arms to sink into. For Don to promise that everything would be okay, for Don to make everything right in the world; a world where the numbers in front of him weren't a body count, not of his friends. _

_Which was stupid because the last time they had hugged was a decade ago, before rifts and secrets and high school; before Don let his open arms fall and turned his back to Charlie to hang with his friends instead of acknowledging the desperate younger brother who nipped at his coattails. _

_"When was the last time you ate?"_

_Charlie looked up from the table to the doorway of the make-shift office. "Gryffin. You're back. I'm alright, I'll get something to eat with Krythan and Vahn later."_

_Sergeant Gryffin Beck snorted. "Krythan's gone on another strike mission and Vahn's off on recon." The army soldier stared at the curly headed top of the man a decade younger then him. "Seriously Charlie, when was the last time you ate and slept?"_

_Charlie rubbed a hand over his face, knowing that there were large visible bags under his eyes and his skin was pale. He didn't really know when he last ate and slept. He didn't know what day it was. "I'm fine Gryffin." Charlie looked back down at the maps of the base and scattered calculations on the desk, "I'll get something later. Why don't you go check on your team?"_

_The stocky man looked away. "They're dead." The soldier said monotonously, "Lilah passed away this morning. She was the last."_

_Charlie felt the words like a punch in the gut. So many had been lost, and they were losing more each day. Two weeks. It had been two weeks and still there was no reply to their emergency beacons. "I'm sorry." He whispered, but knew it was no consolation. If only he could find a way out for them, if only he could calculate an escape route that had more than a 25% survival chance. _

_Gryffin breathed in and slowly let the air out. "Take a break Charlie. Come with me to grab a bit to eat and we'll visit the infirmary. The soldiers will be glad to see you."_

_Charlie nodded and got up, even he could guess that the other man needed company now; to distract him if nothing else. "How was the latest mission, didn't you just return from one with Krythan?"_

_"Yeah," the older man put a supporting hand around the mathematician's back when Charlie started listing to the side. "It went well. We took back the supply depot and retrieved one of us. It seems Kilcare's unit has been holding it since when the enemy first broke in. We pulled their youngest member, Jessica, out today." Gryffin's voice was flat again. "It seems she was the last as well. She's currently in the infirmary now, trying to recover. Her team's gone, too, though."_

_Charlie closed his eyes. "I'm sorry." _

_Gryffin shrugged, the movement almost enough to dislodge the younger man's exhausted body from his side. "I don't know what's worse: losing your whole team or losing the one person who meant everything to you." _

_Charlie swallowed. "Moyne?"_

_The Sergeant sighed. "He's still catatonic. She meant everything to him…and she died in his arms. I didn't…"_

_There were a lot of regrets and hopelessness floating around these days. None of them knew if they were going to make it out alive. "We have to have faith Gryffin." Charlie reminded the other man, as well as himself. They couldn't die, he couldn't. His parents didn't even know where he was, Susan thought he was at an interactive conference, and the last contact he had from Don was a postcard saying: _Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Charlie. Don't study too hard okay?

_Two lines. That couldn't be the last time he ever heard from his brother; it couldn't. _

_"Faith." Gryffin snorted. "I don't believe in God, Charlie. If there was a God, you think he'd let this happen? Let us be sitting ducks while the enemy picked us off?"_

_"Gryffin…"_

_"No, if I ever believed in a God, he died today when Lilah breathed her last and she wasn't even able to speak with her boy one last time. She was supposed to be married in two months, you know?" The Sergeant's voice didn't crack but his eyes were very bright. "She had it all planned out. She was going to take leave and they were going to run Vegas for a shotgun wedding, none of that frilly lace and flowers business her family keeps insisting."_

_"Gryffin…"_

_"God died when he let Moyne's beloved die in his arms before he could even gather the courage to confess that she was the most beautiful thing his world. We'd been egging him on for years. He was going to crack soon." Charlie watched with a leaden heart as the older man threw his head back and laughed, but there was no joy. "Well he did. Guess we didn't know how close to the edge he was, huh?"_

_And there in the empty scorch marked hallway the sturdy, confident soldier slid to his knees, taking Charlie with him. The mathematician wrapped his arms around the man and held him tight. "We'll make it Gryffin. We'll make it out of this. We're going to make their lives count."_

_The Sergeant buried his face in the frail shoulder. "You make it Charlie. You make it out of this alive, and I'll believe there's something worth living for still." That was all the Company was living for anymore. The soldiers had joined the military, agreeing to die for their country. They didn't want to die, but they had known they could. But Charlie was different; he was a consultant, a civilian. There were so many things he still had left to give to the world; so much knowledge for him to pass on to the next up-and-coming generation. Heck, he _was_ the up-and-coming generation. Charlie was so young, and brilliant, and even if the whole Company was going to die in the process, they were going to get him out of this alive. _

. : - : .

Don walked out of the escalator on Tuesday morning to see the sight of Megan compiling stacks of papers for their Army liaison. The Captain was stood silently as the tight-lipped Megan handed over more files.

"Hey." Don said, stopping next to the bullpen, "What's going on?"

"I'm here to collect all the files pertaining to the case of Gregory Williamson and Victor Helm." Captain Philip Wren informed him.

"I can see that," Don replied, eyeing the bulk of paper work in the other man's hands. The Lead Agent looked at his behavior analyst for an explanation.

"We're passing the case." Megan said flatly. "The higher ups decided that the military are going to look into the case themselves and we've been instructed to give up all assembled information to the Captain and step off the investigation."

"Whoa." Don cut in, "Wait. Stop. Hold on a minute." He turned back to the Captain. "You're taking my case?"

"We've recently been notified that one of your team members have enquired about the past military records of the soldiers." Wren replied steadily. "You're sending out unnecessary flags. If you keep investigating in this method it will draw attention to Williamson and Helm, and give them unwarranted suspicion."

"We're not trying to hurt anybody." Don said.

"Be as that may," The Captain replied, "Enquiring about them will have people questioning why they are being investigated. Rumors would start, and you could ruin their careers Agent."

Don stared straight back at the man. "I'm sorry if that's the impression some people got, but we're just doing our job."

"Well it's not your job anymore." Captain Wren said steadily. "Due to recent events it has been brought to our attention that this will be a military investigation after all."

"Williamson and Helm are on leave." Don retorted. "Urban area and civilian investigation go to the federal bureau."

Philip Wren's green eyes were hard. "Recent information that has arisen marks this as a military case. I'm sorry Agent."

But not sorry enough to give back the case, Megan quickly intervened between the two men. "We've been ordered off the case Don."

"No way am I just giving this up." Don argued, "Williamson came to visit Charlie. That's my younger brother we're talking about."

Some of the ice left the military man's shoulders. "Isn't that another reason to let go of the case? You're not totally impartial."

"Look here." Don stated fiercely, "I don't know what you know or suddenly what your superiors know but your man brought danger to _my_ family. And I'm not just going to let you take all the time and work we've put into this case and walk away with it, without even letting us know what the hell's going on. I don't know you and to hell if I'm going to put my brother's safety in your _impartial_ hands."

Wren's voice was frosty. "That's right. You don't know me. So don't presume to know what I'm going to do." He then turned and stride away.

"Don." Megan placed a hand on her superior's arm, stopping him from continuing the argument as the army captain walked out.

"Damn it." Don said under his breath.

"Eppes." Don looked up to see his boss standing the doorway of his office, motioning for the Lead Agent. "I want to see you."

"Great." Don sighed, "Just what I need."

Megan gave a smile and patted him soothingly.

"Did you just let them take away my case?" Don questioned when he closed the door behind him.

"Never mind that," Merrick said, "I have a different case for you."

"That case impacts Charlie, Merrick." Don had to try and fight it, "My brother could be in danger."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Merrick replied flatly, "but orders are orders and there's nothing we can do about it Don."

Don took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know. Damn it. It's just…frustrating."

"I know Don." Merrick repeated, "But there's another reason I wanted to talk to you."

Don sat down in the chair opposite of his boss, waiting for the details. Merrick was grave as he stared at his best Agent. "We got an internal alert. One of the Agents working at the Senate reported in. We got reason to believe that one or more nuclear weapon or the means of one is somewhere in the country, either travelling or hidden." He nodded at Don's sharp look, "We don't know where yet. All the major departments have been alerted. We're to try and investigate without sending out flags. We don't know if it's near us."

"But we can't be sure." Don said.

"No," Merrick acquiesced, "we can't. We don't have any leads yet. This is the case I want you on." Merrick told him, pushing a folder across the table. "Take another case, one that's not urgent so people won't get curious. But until something pans out, this is your priority."

Don nodded and got up.

"It could be good timing for the military to take the other case off your hands now," Merrick commented as he walked Don out of this office, "this way no one will ask."

"Right." Don muttered, not entirely convinced.

. : - : .

"_x." Charlie wrote in front of the blackboard, a tendril of warmth curling through his body with every line drawn on the surface. The first summer back and gazing wide eyed around the debriefing room, reaching out to touch the newly installed equipment and the boxes of chalk and erasers sitting casually on the ledge. Years later his chest still felt tight whenever he entered and he absorbed the sight. "The independent variable: the variable which remains unchanged by the other variable. A variable with values that are not problematical in an analysis but are taken as simply given. It is presumed to cause or determine a dependent variable." Charlie bit his lips to keep from grinning, "Rephrased, it's a variable which refuses to take advice." _

_A smile tugged on Vahn's lips._

_Krythan mock glared. "Are you trying to say something baby boy?"_

_Charlie smiled. "Of course not, but it's your designation: n is Vahn, any and every relevant term, and you are x, the independent variable which changes others but your function remains unchanged."_

_Krythan stood up and prowled close, "and that last wasn't a jab at my temperament?" _

_Charlie swallowed at her nearness, "Only about as stubborn as I am." He whispered. _

_Amusement flashed in vivid blue eyes, "_**c**._ The constant." She murmured. "That's mighty stubborn Charlie."_

_The corner of his mouth curled up, "I know."_

. : - : .

"There's someone waiting to see you, Mr. Iverson." His secretary said, knocking on his door minutes right before closing hour.

James looked up from the paper work, "Do they have an appointment?"

"No," his secretary replied, "But she said you would probably see her, or she is willing to wait."

"Alright, send her in." The ex military man stood up, wondering who it could be. When his secretary walked out and a new woman, shapely and in her twenties, replaced her in his door, he breathed sharply. "Jessica." He quickly stepped out from behind the table, opening his arms. The younger brunette woman walked straight into his arms where he enfolded her. "Jesus. Jessica. I'm so sorry. I heard about Griffin."

"Another one of us in the ground Iverson," Jessica said muffled.

The older man held her tight. "I know Cale, I know."

They stood there in silence for a long moment before James slowly released the hug. Jessica clung on for a second longer before stepping back. "Thank you." She murmured, blinking bright eyes.

"You got here fast." James remarked. "What are you up to these days?"

"I work for the NSA." Jessica told him, "but I was already on my way when the message came."

James's eyebrows went up.

"I was coming to see Charlie." She said, "I thought it was time we talked about some things."

"Anything really important?" James questioned.

"Not to the rest of you." Jessica said with a smile. "Just something between the two of us."

"Alright." James nodded, not prying. "Has anyone else contacted you?"

Jessica shook her head, "No. No one else arrived yet?"

"Williamson and Helm arrived a week ago, other then them you're the first except for those of us already in the city." James told her.

Jessica looked out the window. "Do you think they're all coming?"

"I can't think why not." James replied, "Unless they're on other missions or circumstances won't let them. We can wait."

"Can we?" Jessica whispered. They had already lost a team member.

James squeezed her shoulder in support. "We can check in, but it doesn't mean we'll say no to those who'll arrive later."

It was the first time after half a decade that they received an order from their Company Commander. Those of them, who could answer, would answer.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

"These are all the relevant files." Philip Wren handed over the paperwork to the other Captain.

"Thanks." The fellow soldier and friend paused, looking into the weary green eyes. "Now you want to tell me the real reason why you don't want this case, after working so hard to filch it from the feds?"

Wren's lips tightened.

His friend sighed. "Alright, I'll take it over. But seriously, taking a leave of absence, now?"

"If not now, when?" Wren shrugged nonchalantly.

The other Captain shook his head, knowing Wren wasn't going to tell him anything more. "I won't press you. I get there's something in this case that gets to you, so. Go home. Rest up. I'll let you know when we've made advancement and when it's solved."

"Thank you." Philip said gratefully.

When Captain Philip Wren of the United States Army returned home at the end of the day there was another letter waiting. He picked it up from his mailbox and flipping through the envelopes as he made walked through the hallway, it made him pause. It didn't matter that he had expected another one of its kind would be arriving; the name penned on the surface addressed to a man who no longer lived there hurt.

He sat down on the couch, placing the rest of the paperwork on the coffee table to be dealt with later. Even knowing what he would find, he still was hesitant. Ripping open one side of the envelope, he found it just like all the others, there was one folded sheet of paper inside wrapped around another smaller envelope. Unfolding the page there was only one sentence standing starkly out from the white expanse: _For the light in our lives._

Philip breathed in and closed his eyes in pain.

. : - : .

_Charlie walked quietly away from the infirmary where Osaki and her unit, found after 4 days of lost communications, were recovering; he had spent 3 sleepless nights working out various equations and sending out scouting teams on each new lead. Finally the missing team was located this morning; tired, dehydrated, wounded and starving, but alive. Charlie turned into the hallway and paused. _

_Anderson stood there: feet apart, shoulders straight, hands clasped behind him at attention. And the look in his eyes that Charlie was still only getting used to seeing now because of his time with Krythan and Vahn. _

_Pride. Pure pride._

_It always took his breath away._

_Pride, with none of the confusion that mingled in his family's eyes when they turned it on him. None of the: _what am I going to do with you? Where did you come from? How am I supposed to understand you?

_Just pride. Pure. In Charlie. In what Charlie could do._

"_You amaze me." Anderson said, still in the respectful stance. "Every time. Always did. Always do. Always will."_

_Charlie flushed, slow and deep. "I…I." Charlie stuttered._

_Anderson's upper body leaned forward, tilting in a bow until his forehead lay to rest on Charlie's shoulder. "I love you." Always said with such wonder, awe, and fierce determination. _

_A chalk calloused hand slowly came up to rest on the strong, solid, uniformed back. "I love you too." And it wasn't a lie._

. : - : .

"It doesn't add up David." Agent Colby Granger said leaning back in his chair. "I feel like we're missing something here about Williamson."

David looked up from the report he was writing, "It doesn't have to Colby. It's not our case anymore."

"I know," Colby said disgruntled, "and what's with that man? They came waltzing in here and taking our investigation away – away, not even sharing it."

"Politics." David told him, "It happens Granger, get over it."

"I know, I know." Colby sighed. "But seriously, before they pulled the plug on us, from what my friend told me, it doesn't make sense how Williamson got injured."

David sat back, settling in for the conversation the other man seemed to need to have. "What do you mean?"

Colby leaned forward towards the dark skinned man. "Look, see Williamson was part of Frynd-Sign. For _years_. And he gets hurt in a practice maneuver? He's an experienced rock climber. He would have recognized he had the wrong equipment for his weight right away."

"People make mistakes all the time." David reminded him.

"Not in covert-ops. Not in Frynd-Sign." Colby argued.

David raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not just idolizing him a bit? You seem a bit into this hype about the Frynd-Sign."

Colby had the grace to look embarrassed. "A bit, but David; you gotta understand. In Frynd-Sign, or covert-ops in general? You either died within the first 6 months or you did every single thing you could to make sure as heck that you stayed alive. According to his record, Williamson had been with Frynd-Sign since the very beginning. When he moved they gave him his own team to lead, right away."

"So what you're saying is that there should be no way he made such an elementary mistake." David deduced. "What if he was tired? Maybe he hadn't enough sleep."

Colby shook his head. "Covert-ops for that many years, you have to be used to running on low energy and little to no sleep."

David was starting to understand where Colby was going, "So…what do you think? He staged it?"

Colby shook his head, "No. No way could he have gone near the equipment before the incident and no one remembered. I think he saw an opportunity and took it."

"To take a fall and dislocate his shoulder?" David questioned. "Why?"

Colby shrugged. "What we do know is that after the accident, between the time before he left the base and arrived here he made a call to Victor Helm. So that he knew they could meet up."

"But Helm was shot." David picked up the literarily. "And if that the whole point of this then either the cause was negated or he would have gone straight to see Helm in the hospital." David widened his eyes, "But instead of Helm he went and visited…"

"_Charlie_." Colby finished, sharing look of astonishment with his partner.

"What would Charlie have to do with anything in the military?" David wondered.

"Don said that Williamson told them that they met when Williamson was in training and Charlie was giving a presentation." Colby furrowed his brows. "What was the presentation about?"

David stood up and pulled on his jacket, "Let's find out."

. : - : .

"_I was an assassin," Krythan said calmly, "which means you need to know exactly how many ways you can kill someone. Which means you need to know exactly how many ways someone can die. Which means, conversely, you also know exactly how many ways they _won't_."_

"_Which means you know exactly how many ways they can suffer, but won't perish." Charlie whispered in realization and stared wide eyed at Krythan._

_The older woman nodded and cupped his face in her hands, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Don't make me use that knowledge baby boy." _

. : - : .

The mathematician prodigy looked up and across the coffee table to where the other man sat, whom he had asked to come over because there were things they had to discuss. Gregory Williamson had sat patiently in silence for the past half hour since being let in the door to Charlie's house, letting the university professor take the time he needed to organize his thoughts.

Charlie threaded his fingers together and leaned forward, taking a fortifying breath before speaking, "Lieutenant Williamson."

Greg felt shock bolt through him at the address, back stiffening. The two opening words set the tone for the rest of the conversation. This wasn't his friend Charlie Eppes speaking, Charlie never referred to any of the soldiers by their designations unless absolutely necessary, he only called them by the titles under formal conditions. This was his superior speaking, his old strategic commander: Frynd-Sign's Tactician.

After such a long absence.

Williamson resisted the urge to stand at attention, old habits resurging to prove they hadn't been as forgotten as supposed.

"If, in the event of Frynd-Sign Company reassembling and the absence of Commanders Krythan Sign and Vahn Frynd," Charlie paused, "would you be my Second?"

Greg felt a second shock run through him in less then minutes. "Charlie…" The soldier said roughly.

Greg had seen how the other man has been hesitant about reengaging the Company but now here he was planning for the eventuality, and although it wasn't completely unexpected, to be asked to stand as Charlie's Second-In-Command was a great honor and large responsibility. Greg wasn't sure if he could measure up to the people Charlie was used to supporting him: Krythan and Vahn. Greg wasn't sure if he could measure up to them even with 10 more years of experience under his belt. Charlie watched the world though miraculous eyes that saw too much ever since he was young, absorbing and integrating information faster Greg could ever hope to catch up to.

It was a large responsibility. To be a support to a great man required the best.

"I…"

Charlie smiled wryly, as if he knew what Greg was thinking, the edges were tinged with sadness. "It's asking a lot, I know. But the one I would have asked is no longer here." Charlie's voice fell soft. "Anderson had been the last…"

The last and the only. Anderson had been the first to be trained by Krythan and Vahn to be prepared to act as Charlie's 2IC if there ever came such a time Charlie needed someone, but after Anderson passed away Charlie had been too raw, and anyone being trained for the position would have been seen as trying to take Anderson's spot. Everyone could see how much that would hurt Charlie, so Krythan and Vahn worked fiercely that it would never need to happen, and no one had been offered the position again.

Until now.

Greg saw the pain in his friend's eyes and the strain that tightened Charlie's face. Charlie's lips were pinched white; it was the first time in years that he had spoken his name.

It was a huge responsibility and Gregory Williamson couldn't hope to measure up to the others that were much better matched at supporting Charlie Eppes but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

"I would be honored." Greg said and watched some of the tension leave his friend. The pain still lurked behind Charlie's eyes but at least it didn't hurt to look at his friend anymore.

Charlie smiled, this time for real, gratitude clear in his eyes. Gregory felt his throat close up, being offered the position showed the amount of trust Charlie had in him, and he wanted to be worthy of that sentiment. There was something that Greg should have told Charlie the first day he came, ever since he saw that man. He had known but had hoped he wouldn't have to; he hadn't wanted to hurt Charlie, but the situation was different now. A knock on the front door forestalled any words he might have spoken.

The professor got up to open the door and when he did so there was a beautiful brunette woman on the doorstep, the cut of her suit exact, and the line of her shoulders expressing strength. She was familiar but not well known.

"Charlie." She greeted, staring at him.

"Hello." He replied.

"I'm here for the Company." She told him.

He nodded, stepping back to let her through. He had thought as much.

Charlie watched as Greg rose from the couch when he saw her. "Jessica."

Jessica, a limp figure on the infirmary bed, waking up with hollowed eyes; simply to close them again as Gryffin told her the news, silent tears trailing down her pale cheeks. Jessica standing by the window with an empty gaze, staring out at the gray sky until Gryffin guided her back to a seat. Jessica, whom Gryffin had taken with him when he had been offered the position at NSA. Jessica, watching the world with unfocused eyes, tucked up underneath Gryffin's shoulder as he led her out.

Charlie remembered watching from a distance, knowing they were the only two things that kept Gryffin Beck moving: Charlie, pulling from ahead, fierce in his determination that they would survive this ordeal; Jessica, pushing him from behind, wandering the hallways for a reason to exist. She stood taller now, stronger and older, but underneath it all, underneath all the strength and trials of adversity and stubbornness, she just as sad as she had always been.

Charlie opened his arms, knowing they had been the last two to have known Gryffin best; to have mattered the most to the deceased man.

She fell into him like she had just been waiting for the gesture. Waiting for days. She clung and Charlie let her, clinging back. Grief, harsh and deep, rushed through them. They had never interacted much but Gryffin had connected them.

"I was notified about Gryffin." Charlie murmured.

Jessica was silent for a long moment, knuckles white with the strength of her grip in Charlie's shirt. Small tremors ran through her body and Charlie felt the fabric of his shoulder become damp with tears. He closed his eyes and waited for her to be ready to speak.

"He'd been waiting to die since we left Frynd-Sign." Jessica finally spoke softly. "He was so glad that you and I made it, but he'd been waiting to die ever since."

_I'm sorry, _Charlie didn't say. He couldn't. They both knew what she said was the truth. The Gryffin Beck who had survived the hellish weeks trapped in their base while he lost his team members one after another until none were left – the man who had walked off that base had been forever changed from the laughing man they had known before. His faith had been tested and broken; he hadn't liked how his whole team was gone but he walked out alive. Some days, it had all been just because Jessica had lost everyone as well, and he had wanted to be there to be the one to tell her when she woke up, to give her the comfort of having someone who understood the pain. Gryffin hadn't been suicidal, he wouldn't had waste his life like that, Krythan and Vahn had taught them better than that – but to go down fighting and to join those that were waiting for him. Yes, they both knew that was what the man Gryffin Beck wanted.

"I'm glad you came." Charlie said softly into her hair when the trembles stopped.

"You called." She mumbled into the tear stained shoulder.

Charlie didn't have the strength to smile. "Vahn summon." He clarified.

She shook her head, pulling back to stare into his eyes. "You called."

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed, confused. She gave a tiny smile. "I think we should talk: you and me."

Greg, who had been standing silently in the background, looked to Charlie for a response but his disagreement was clear in the slant of his shoulders. "I'd prefer to stay."

Jessica turned, stepping out of Charlie's comforting arms, to look at the other soldier. "I'd prefer to keep it private." She said. "I am adequate protection for Charlie for just a short while. The topic does not involve Frynd-Sign."

"But it involves my First." Greg pointed out.

"He is my First as well." Jessica replied.

Charlie intervened as Greg took a step forward, shoulders back and ready to go into formal posture, "What Greg means, is that I asked him to stand as my Second."

Jessica stilled. Slowly she looked from Charlie to Greg. "You accepted?" She questioned.

"It's a great honor."

The female Agent tilted her head in acknowledgement, "You think you are up to the task?"

Anger flashed in the soldier's blue eyes. "I can try."

"Jessica." Charlie said softly in reprimand.

The brunette turned to meet his stare, defiance clear in her eyes. "To be your Second is a large responsibility."

"I know." Greg said before Charlie could speak.

"Failure is not an option." Jessica told the soldier.

"I never planned on it." Greg replied.

"Good. Make sure it doesn't happen."

Charlie sighed in resignation. Frynd-Sign's habit of being protective had not been lessened over time.

"Alright." Jessica said, "You can stay for the conversation if Charlie wishes it, I would like to request for privacy, but I accept your place as Second and your best interest to stay by Charlie at all times."

"It's alright Greg." Charlie said with a nod. "You stay here." Charlie motioned the soldier back towards the couch, "We'll be in the kitchen. We'll shout if we need you."

Some of the tension left the Lieutenant's shoulders now that he knew he wouldn't need to leave the premises. "You'll keep the backdoor locked?"

Charlie nodded and Greg settled back down on the couch as Jessica followed Charlie into the kitchen.


	10. Chapter 10

I thank everyone for the excellent feedback and the on-going good reception this fiction is getting! I hope everyone likes this new chapter, as Jessica finally gets her back story, which was planned from the start. =)

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

"_Charlie you have to understand the reality of crimes like this-" Don said forcibly. _

"_Excuse me _I understand the reality!"_ Charlie interrupted him, unable to be talked over on this, to just let his brother take the USB key and encrypted photos and the responsibility from his shoulders. This time there was more than what his brother understood, and this time he couldn't let it go._

"_What the hell are you doing?" Don demanded, "I need more than the photograph, I need to stop a guy from disappearing into Mexico!" Don was angry, Don was furious that Charlie was getting in the way of his work, of his investigation, but Charlie couldn't give it up. This meant something. There was a reason why he couldn't give up the memory device. He couldn't fail. Not again. Then Don shouted "An Agent was _killed_," and there was nothing Charlie could do against that. Charlie understood responsibility and the weight of having others put their lives under your command in trust – and failing them. Charlie knew penance._

_Before he even asked, he knew the answer. "He set off the explosion?" _

"_Yes" Don said, tone hard but the guilt hardly hidden at all. _

_Charlie looked down at the small electronic device clutched in his hand, knuckles white. Charlie didn't want to give it up, but he was familiar with weighing the cost between a life lost and a life they could save against the thirst for vengeance and appeasement of old failures. Charlie didn't want to let it go but this was Don, Don who was angry and hurting and Charlie was just too used to giving up, giving in, trying his best to protect Don from everything _he_ could. From the hard truths that Charlie could not, could never, and had no intention of ever revealing to Don. _

_Charlie raised his arm and held out the memory key. Don still had to yank from his tight fingers and his bitten off "thank you" was full of hostility. Charlie couldn't look up, his head pulled downwards from the weight too heavy to lift. _

_It was another one of his failures pulled in front of him. Another reminder that he was weak; had always been weak. He had always walked away from things, from the things that hurt; turning away from reality and sinking into the numbers for escape. He had walked away from caring for his mother when she was sick, he had walked away from Frynd-Sign when it hurt too much, he had walked away from his family to Princeton when he couldn't relate to them anymore, and he had walked away from Jessica even when he had known something was wrong._

_He was weak. He was a failure. He only hoped that it would be some time yet before Don knew. Could only hope that he could protect Don, help him, for just a little bit longer before the visage of competence was ripped away to reveal the wretched man underneath. _

_He needed his brother to need him, just for a bit longer. For as long as possible. _

. : - : .

"What was it you needed to talk to me about?" Charlie asked when they were settled into the kitchen, leaning by the counter ledge.

Jessica looked at him and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to gather up the courage. "You called."

Charlie tilted his head in curiosity, having already established that it was Vahn who had contacted the Company, and Jessica knew that. There was another reason she used the words.

Deep earthly brown eyes snapped open to meet his. "You called my mother. And she called me."

Charlie's brows furrowed, trying to remember whose mother he had called in the past while. Not any of his student's, or fellow colleges, or even scholarly collaborators. There had only been one parental figure that he had specifically contacted within the recent months.

Charlie felt like he just got hit in the gut, all the air rushed out of him in a startled breath and his eyes widened in shock at the woman in front of him. "Jes…sica?" He rasped.

Her lips quirked. She stared at him with sad, morose, and joyful eyes shining with tears. "Once." She said, voice wavering. "Once there was a little girl, who lived down the street and hated her life. She lived with a father she despised with every fiber of her being and a mother who was too absorbed in her drinking to ever do anything about life. Once there was a girl who was miserable and only existed day to day, no trace of any happiness in her life. But then, one day, she met a boy." She wrapped her arms around herself, lips pulling upwards in a smile, "A boy she couldn't talk to or play with often, her father didn't like the girl spending a considerable amount of time with anybody, but sometimes she knew, when the little boy looked at her in her eyes, that he was just as lonely as she was. Just as outcasted, from the things they couldn't tell other people, from the things other people wouldn't understand."

Charlie didn't tumble but his knees felt weak, the kitchen counter the only support that kept him standing.

"Even though they weren't allowed to spend a lot of time together, and they never talked much, it made the little girl glad. To know that she wasn't alone. It gave her strength; hope for a better life. It gave her a reason to dream."

"Jessica." Charlie whispered, disbelieving eyes roving the contours of her face. "Jessica…Cartman."

"Then the family moved, because the father didn't like how the little girl was staring after the fey haired boy."

Charlie's throat closed up. It hurt to swallow and it was too tight for speech.

She stared at him, taking in the sad tear-filled eyes with something like happiness in her own eyes. She gave a shaky smile and took a fortifying breath before continuing.

"I ran away with I was 16." Jessica revealed. "I left home as soon as I was able, saving as much money as I could beforehand and just waited for my birthday to drop out so that no one from school would come looking. I ran away at 16." She repeated, "I was angry, confused, and desperate. I was willing to do anything to get out of there. I was alright for a while, but then the money ran out. There was only so much I could save in the first place. And living on the streets, yes, there were times I had to use what I had: flaunt my body and barter for how much it was worth. But at least this time, it would be my choice," Jessica said fiercely, "my decision who got to look and who got to touch me. It might be a choice between starving and eating, but it was _mine_. I could have chosen to die, I didn't mind dying. I wasn't afraid of death, I had no real reason to live."

"Jessica." Charlie whispered, swallowing, then slipping into the childhood name. "Jess."

Jessica blinked back her own set of tears. "But there's only so long you can live day to day, wondering why you bother to try. I needed a reason, and I refused to be a victim again. So weak and full of fear that I couldn't do anything. Then I saw the poster. Then I knew." She breathed in. "Two years after I left, I went home. My father was out, I waited and watched to make sure that he was gone. I had all the papers ready when I knocked on the door. When I was 18 I changed my name back to Cale, my mother's surname, because I wanted nothing of that bastard's." Jessica's tone was acerbic. "I was my own person. I had my mother sign the forms for the name change and also the parental papers of consent for enlistment into the army. I was going to be strong Charlie."

Charlie swallowed, just waiting, unable to interrupt the story. He couldn't. He needed to know.

"But even after you enlist and you pass the training, you find that nobody wants you. The men will leer and try to protect you but none will take you seriously, none will treat you as an equal. You're shuffled around, team to team, unit to unit, base to base, because no one wants you." The old bitterness was clear, "Until you get to Frynd-Sign. 35% of the active soldiers in the Frynd-Sign Company were female, you ever wondered about that Charlie?" She asked.

"I knew that it was unusual compared to some of the other army contingents I'd seen." Charlie replied softly.

"But then Frynd-Sign was used to unusual." Jessica said amused.

Charlie silently agreed.

Jessica's eyes softened. "I guess we were all different but in the Company we were all the same: we were Frynd-Sign." She paused. "I joined the army, I passed the training and then I was shuffled around until I got to the Frynd-Sign company. That's when I saw you again."

Charlie stared at her, waiting.

"You had already been with the Company for a while then, I don't know how long. But I knew it was you, even before they said your last name, I knew it was you Charlie." She closed her eyes in remembrance. "My Charlie, from my childhood: same nervous stammering, bright eyes, fey like features and dark curls." Her eyelids fluttered open and she met his puzzled gaze. "You might be wondering why I didn't tell you then, who I was, that I knew you. But I was a lowly Private and you were Third. Barely 20 years old and you were Third-In-Command of an extensive, well organized, Company of soldiers." She blinked rapidly but it didn't stop the flow of tears that started. "You were so beautiful, you never changed. Still so slender and fragile looking, but mind lost drifting in a higher place of existence we couldn't see. Bright. Brilliant."

Charlie's chest was tight, like his heart was caught in a high pressurized vault by the look of sheer unabashed joy and pride on Jessica's face. For him. It's been so long since he's seen it.

"I didn't need you to know I was there. I knew you were there. You were so beautiful with Krythan and Vahn, you _fit_, the three of you complimented each other. Anderson couldn't believe that he got a chance with you – none of us could believe either. But the two of you made it work, you tried, and you were good for each other. You deserved every happiness Charlie," She reached out a hand to trail a lone finger alone his cheek, "You still do. It wasn't fair when Anderson passed away. It wasn't." There was anger there, at the world, at the harsh reality, on both her own and Charlie's behalf. "But I'm glad that Krythan and Vahn were there for you. I'm so glad."

Charlie choked back a sob. After all these years of suppressing any memories even associated with Anderson, to hear his name and to share the memories with someone who was there and understood, it healed as much as it hurt.

"I could have gone forever, not telling you. I was happy to be Frynd-Sign Charlie. Happy to be under your command. I could have died happy, knowing that I served a cause. Because there is, because you always have a reason for each of us to be standing or fighting at a position. Because we all support each other. You command us as a whole Charlie, no one left behind if you could help it, and I'm honored to be serving under you again."

Charlie reached up to hold onto her hand, two pairs of bright eyes staring at each other.

"I could have gone to my grave not telling you, but then my mother contacted me saying that you called her – called her asking where I was and how I was doing. I haven't talked to my mother in over a decade Charlie," she confessed, "I hadn't contacted her after she signed the papers and I enlisted. Turns out she left the bastard after I joined the army, said that it was a wake up call when she signed away her daughter." Jessica sighed. "It's too late now for her to mend bridges but we can try, are trying, to get along. I would have hung up on her as soon as she spoke but she rushed in and said your name, that was the only reason I stayed on the phone with her."

Jessica searched his eyes. "She said that you were asking about me, about if I was fine. If I had made it through the ordeal – well Charlie, I did. I lived through it, I survived, and I'm stronger now. I was so happy when I saw you at Frynd-Sign. So glad. We both survived."

"Jessica." Charlie said, voice absolutely wrecked.

"You were beautiful, ethereal. And a better man than any I've known. I don't place any blame on you Charlie, I never did. I didn't expect you to save me, I was just looking for someone who understood: someone who would _know,_ to share that knowledge with me, to let me be not alone." She cupped his face in her hands gently, "It wasn't your fault Charlie, it was never your fault. And you should carry no guilt from it."

Charlie shook his head, throat tight, unable to take in her words, "I…I did _nothing_. I walked away from you, letting…letting that…"

She roamed her eyes over his face carefully, taking in every detail, "Is it absolution you need Charlie?" She asked, "Forgiveness?" He went still, and she knew, "If it is, you have mine, not that you ever needed it. You saved my life Charlie; you were my friend. That meant everything, made all the difference. I was so glad to see you at Frynd-Sign." Jessica looked into this eyes, "To see that we both made it." She pulled his face down towards her, guided him down until their foreheads touched, and she whispered, "We're different from those helpless insecure little children we were Charlie. We're not them anymore. We've grown up - grown strong. We're _Frynd-Sign_." She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his brow, "We're not alone."

Even when Gryffin had wanted to be nothing more than the waking dead, he had pulled through because Frynd-Sign doesn't leave its members behind, and they don't give up simply because it's easy. Frynd-Sign had been given the dredges and taken in the worst, Frynd-Sign got the spoilt and petulant and outcasts. Krythan and Vahn took them all in and broke them, shattered them and remolded them, compressing until the rough jewel was a shining diamond. Frynd-Sign got the fucking incomparable.

Charlie closed his eyes and breathed in, the crushing weight on his shoulders changing to one he could uphold because he finally remembered. Even though he had seen Vahn and asked Greg to be his Second, it hadn't really sunk in until this moment: he was Frynd-Sign. He was going to be Frynd-Sign _again_. The others were going to gather and they were going to stand together against the world, a clear division line: us and them. Charlie wouldn't be by himself behind the line, he would be supported and accompanied by others. They were going to listen to him and he was going to listen to them.

In a world where he couldn't connect to anybody or reach out to relate to the normal people, they would be there: with him, by him, leaning on him while he leaned on them. They weren't going to question his competence and he wasn't going to be left behind on field missions.

He was Charlie Eppes, Frynd-Sign's Tactician.

He wasn't alone.

. : - : .

"_We need you to calculate the odds of success for the mission." The military officer explained, pushing the files across his desk. "And give a prognostic of the situation of the troops, where it is most vital to send back up."_

"_Isn't this a conflict of interest?" Krythan spoke from behind, walking into the room without knocking. Vahn followed after her and the officer stiffened at the new company. _

"_Conflict of interest?" Charlie asked, flicking his eyes from his friends to the officer. "What conflict of interest?"_

_Krythan's lips pulled upwards but the smile did not spread to her eyes, cold blue evaluating the outsider icily. Vahn remained silent, arms crossed, standing by Krythan's side in visible support. _

"_Major Sign." The officer greeted curtly before turning back to Charlie's expectant eyes, reluctantly elaborating. "When the mission parameters are calculated, the Frynd-Sign Company will be sent to support the current deployed soldiers on the battle lines." _

_Charlie paled. "What-how-I can't…" The beige folder was scrunched between terse hands. "How can you ask me to do this?" He finally said with a hoarse rasp._

"_Because he wasn't going to tell you until we got the order for deployment." Krythan explained, "Or he wasn't ever going to tell you."_

_The officer set his shoulders back. "Civilian Consultants do not have to follow to the battle lines."_

"_Oh, but didn't your superior tell you?" Krythan questioned sarcastically, dark amusement in her eyes. "Charlie's an Operative. He's part of our Company." _

"_He comes with us." Vahn finally spoke. "We protect our own."_

_Charlie didn't need to see the shock on the officer's face to know it was there. "I can't...I can't do this. I can't run this calculation, _knowing_ that the Company-"_

"_Better you than anyone else Charlie." Krythan told him, meeting Charlie's pleading eyes with her own steady gaze. "Better you than any other consultant or scientist. We trust you. You'll bring us back Charlie."_

_Vahn's vivid blue eyes seconded Krythan's words. "You're the best we've got."_

_Charlie closed his eyes and breathed out, smoothing the papers out in front of him. He opened the cover and pulled out a pencil, eyes moving over the data. _

_Krythan motioned to the officer, "Your job is done." She said, dismissing the man. "We'll let you know when the calculations are done Wren."_

_Charlie, already lost in the numbers, didn't watch the officer leave._

. : - : .

Greg sat waiting patiently on the couch, the television a pleasant blankness in front of him; he didn't feel up to watching the news or staring at the many mindless day time shows offered. He simply waited, content, knowing that no matter what happened in the kitchen, Charlie was going to walk out his commander, his superior. After so many years of fumbling around the politics and navigating the black ops, paranoid and rightly so, to finally relinquish command once again to someone who he trusted, who he would stand in the middle of a battlefield for and not move an inch if he was commanded, even if it lead to his death, because at least his death would be mourned, it would count towards something instead of just advancing someone's political career. Charlie _cared _for his soldiers, always had, and always would. He sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced in front of him, just enjoying the moment, the feeling of being where he should be, where he belonged without any complicated circumstances.

He got up when the doorbell rang. He could near soft noises from the kitchen, but no distinct words and he assumed that they would need more time. He didn't want to interrupt them since Charlie hadn't called for him yet. He stood and walked over to open the door, a small thrill going down his spine, that he could do this now. He had permission; he was Charlie's Second and he had the right to know who was coming to see his First.

"Charlie we wanted to – oh."

FBI Agents Colby Granger and David Sinclair stood on the doorstep, clearly not expecting to see him.

"Agents Granger and Sinclair." Greg greeted, staying in the doorway.

"Is Charlie home?" Sinclair asked, a quick flick of his eyes to the house behind him as Granger tensed at the unexpected company.

"He's with someone." Greg replied. "They're in the kitchen."

Granger smiled stiffly. "Mind if we come in?"

Gregory Williamson considered the two men in front of him, knowing the they were FBI agents part of Charlie's older brother's team, but this time also considering the potential they had for being able to hurt Charlie. This was a lot more personal now that Charlie had asked him to become his Second. The tension rose as the three men stood off silently until Greg finally waved a hand for them to enter.

"Have a seat." Greg said coolly, motioning to the couches. "I'll check if Charlie is available for company."

Granger kept smiling but his eyes showed strain and Sinclair's brows rose in equal amounts of surprise and skepticism. Greg turned towards the kitchen and the two agents shared a look of incredulity behind his back.

Greg made sure his steps were audible as he approached and the murmurs died off before he knocked softly on the wood. He paused, counting silently to three before pushing the door open. Charlie stood by the end of the counter, watching as Greg walked in. Jessica was bent over the sink, hands dripping as she splashed water over her slightly flushed face. Charlie's eyes were a bit bright but there was nothing to be a cause for concern. Instead there was a look of resolve and joy that hadn't been there earlier .Whatever Jessica had shared with Charlie had only bolstered him, not making him question himself.

Greg was glad, and thankful for her both as part of Frynd-Sign and as Charlie's Second. Which seemed more and more certain by the moment, because Charlie had said '_if_' earlier: _if_ in the case of Frynd-Sign reassembling. But the soldiers were gathering, and the agents were investigating and coming too close, and soon. Soon Charlie would take command and lead them; because Krythan Sign was MIA and Frynd-Sign never left a member behind.


	11. Interlude: Outlier

Some of you might have already read this, but as this fiction happens in the same universe as **Anomaly** I'm going to move this here instead of as a post on its own, this way everyone following the 'verse will be sure to find it. This could be seen as a prequel.

Author's Note: This story is **AU**. And I should probably also warn that I'm a Canadian so I am only playing in the American political sandbox, which I am only vaguely familiar with. Please suspend your disbelief of real military procedures as well as I have no military experience.

But if you can do that, continue on!

* * *

**Title:** Outlier  
**Timeline:** Through Season 1  
**Summary:** Charlie through the days of working with the FBI. And the memories it stirs up. Part of the ANOMALY verse.  
**Rating:** PG13. Implied eppescest.

* * *

**OUTLIER**

It's not the first body, not the first death, heck not the first _murder_ he's seen. But there is a reason why he left the NSA, why he told Bob no, that he didn't want anymore cases, at least for a little while (if ever again). He was taking a break from all of that, unless either the NSA really had an emergency that no one else could help with or some unforeseen circumstances pushed him back into it.

But then Don had come home one day, carrying a bunch of folders, and asked him to help. It was stock numbers, and someone was performing fraud. Charlie said okay. Don needed his help and it was numbers, Charlie could easily do that. And the way Don smiled at him when he solved the problem, and told him that he had been a great help – Don needed him for once, Don came to him instead of trying to find a reason to get away from his great geek of a brother, Charlie couldn't say no.

The feeling of being needed, of being helpful to Don, he wanted to feel that again. That was why when he saw the folders and rolled up map, he had to look at them, to see if he could be helpful to Don again, to maybe have Don looked at him and smile, being proud of Charlie's understanding of numbers instead of shifting uncomfortably every time someone mentioned Charlie's mathematician skills.

But he knew that this case would be different from the fraud case. It wouldn't be a clean case, not in the sense of the fraud case was. People had been hurt, or murdered, in this case. The numbers wouldn't be representing money or objects, but people.

Psycho serial, Don said.

Violence. Murder. Death. Psychopaths. Things Charlie had walked away from the NSA for. And if he wanted to stay away from it, he should stop now and walk away, let Don take the case files and bring them back to the office without saying anymore.

But he knew Don didn't have a lead for this case, Don had been working long hours and not eating, spending too much time in the office instead of going home to sleep, trying to catch the perpetrator. Don needed help. Charlie could be that help.

That was why Charlie took a breath and reminded Don that he had helped him before. But Don turned him down, told him that this time it wasn't about numbers, Don was wrong though, everything was numbers.

Don was going to walk away, take the case and violence and blood and murder out of the house but Charlie saw the sprinkler and even if Charlie couldn't tell Don where the killer might strike next, he could find the point of origin and find where the killer was.

"Charlie, you're saying you can tell us where the killer _lives_?"

And this was it; this was the last moment to turn back, to deny, to leave this whole mess behind. But this was Don, this was his brother, whom he always wanted to hang out with but was left behind, this was his brother who came back and left his life behind to take care of the family when Mom got sick and Charlie hadn't been strong enough to do it, this was Don exhausted and hopeful and Charlie knew that when this case was solved there would be another, and another, followed by many more, and Charlie would be right back into the cycle of government consulting that Charlie had fought tooth and nail to leave.

But this was Don, and Don was looking at him, for him to help save people instead of running off punching numbers. This time Charlie could show Don what the numbers could do, what Charlie could do, that Charlie wasn't hopeless, useless, after all. This time these cases were things that Charlie could tell Don about, actually talk to Don about, and it was so tempting, so alluring.

Charlie took a chance, took a soft breath and swallowed back his fears. "Yeah."

When Charlie flipped open the photograph folder and Don closed the open cover hurried telling him he didn't need to look at those, Charlie knew that Don was trying to protect him. That was what Don did; protect the family, that was why he had come back from Albuquerque. Charlie didn't have the heart to tell him that he was too late. Charlie didn't know how.

. : - : .

When the call came from Dr. Lee Havercamp, who needed a mathematician with his clearance, he knew there was a large chance that he would run into Don and his team, but he had hoped that he wouldn't. The hope was shattered as soon as he got out of the escort car and he saw Don and Terry standing with Dr. Lee.

The gig was up, Don now knew that Charlie had high clearance, that Charlie would had to have done some things that he had never told his family about.

Don didn't think he could keep a secret.

If only Don knew. Charlie had kept the biggest secret of his life ever since he was a teenager. And to this day, Don still had no clue.

A few years was nothing compared to decades.

. : - : .

There were so many things that Charlie wanted to tell him brother; so many times before that Charlie had wanted his brother there with him, to promise that things would be alright, that everything would turn out fine – but Don hadn't been.

And now here he was, trying to help his brother and wanting his brother to understand, but Don didn't. So many back stories and momentous events that Don wasn't there for and now Charlie is here trying to _prove_ himself to Don, to let Don know that his faith in Charlie isn't unwarranted, isn't wrong.

Then Ian Edgarton comes along and claims that Charlie doesn't know what he's talking about, can't, because he doesn't know what a sniper rifle feels in his hands.

Charlie doesn't. He had preferred hand guns and he had walked away from the cold feel of metal in his hands. But now he's headed right back, because running won't help Don anymore.

. : - : .

When Scott Reynolds had turned Charlie's question right back at him, Charlie hadn't been able to answer him because the answer is that it's hard.

It's hard living with himself everyday; all that he's done and all that he's _not_ done.

Truthfully Jessica was only one of the first of those that Charlie had failed. He tries everyday, not to speculate in what his calculations had resulted in, what actions were implemented because of his probability analysis, and how many lives were lost in the pursuit of his cryptology.

He can't. He'd go insane.

That was why he had walked away from it, when the stress was getting to too much and he couldn't handle lying to his mother anymore, telling her that he was spending the morning, afternoon, night, and bleeding into a few days, with his professors: who were fellow consultants on the same projects, covering for him and vice versa.

He couldn't handle the bunks, the armed guards, spending meal times with tables full of uniforms and suits but no one that was his family. He couldn't stand smiling and laughing with a marine, air force, army soldier one day and have them shipped out to a site the next because of his calculations of which places needed more enforcements, and then to be notified a week later that the young soldier never made it back, or was discharged because they were no longer physically capable or mentally stable. He couldn't do it, those had been his friends, comrades, and he had sent them to their deaths or worse.

He had left that behind, or so he had thought. But then each case that he sent Don into a sniper's view, a murder's range, a bomb's radius; his chest tightens and he can't understand why he's here, at exactly the same situation again, only this time it's worse. It's Don out there, Don he's sending to possible death.

And this time he can't even ask for the small handgun they had signed over to him before, because Don wouldn't understand. Or wouldn't want to.

It's Don's job to protect Charlie, and Charlie won't take that away. He doesn't want to tell Don it's far, far too late.

And trying to track Jessica down to speak with her now, it won't solve anything, save anyone, but it might earn him a forgiveness, the first of too many that he needs.

. : - : .

If anyone ever gets their hands on his file, Charlie thinks it'll probably read something like this.

_Status:_ _inactive, released from duty due to request. _

_Occupation: Civilian consultant._

_Field training: Complete._

_Team: Civilian Consultant Department and Frynd-Sign Covert-Op attaché. _

_Note: Last mental evaluation suggests emotional fragility. _

**:-: END :-:**


	12. Chapter 11

Because some of you have been asking about this chapter, so here's the update. It's a bit short, but I didn't want to make you wait even longer.

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Colby had declined the instruction from Williamson to sit simply on principle, instead staying on his feet to be at an even vantage point. David remained standing either because of the same or because Colby did so, to humor his partner.

When Charlie walked out of the kitchen, it was expected that Gregory Williamson was just a step behind shadowing his movements, but what was unexpected was the tall leggy brunette who exited after them. She was elegant and poised; soft curves, silky hair and totally unknown to both FBI Agents. Colby watched how she followed after Charlie and when the mathematician seated himself on the couch, she sat on his right, Williamson standing at his left.

Colby took in their positions with piqued interest and a raising sense of caution. A glance out of the corner of his eye where David was staring at the three told him that his partner was aware of the undercurrents as well.

"Hello Colby, David." Charlie greeted, "Why don't you have a seat?"

Although Charlie expressed the sentiment with genuine warmth and casual puzzlement, his words felt different than all the other times the FBI Agents had been in his company. It was a polite request, but somehow it seemed like it should also be an unsaid command. Colby slowly lowered himself into the one-seat and David watched him with a blend of curiosity and amusement before sitting on the armrest.

"Oh, let me make the introductions." Charlie said, "Colby, David, this is my friend Jessica. Jessica, this is Agent Colby Granger and David Sinclair, they work at the FBI with Don."

"Your brother Don?" The woman, Jessica, asked.

"Our team leader," David answered.

Colby observed the lack of space between the two on the couch in front of him, the comfortable way that Jessica leaned towards Charlie, their shoulder's brushing, and Colby wondered if this was the reason why Charlie never took Amita up on her interest; if the reason was the unknown beautiful woman in front of him.

"You wanted to see me?" Charlie asked.

David and Colby flicked their eyes over the company. "We wanted to ask you something privately."

There was a small, but detectable stiffening of the Lieutenant's back. Jessica's gaze sharpened and Colby's sense for caution rose again.

"Is it about the case?" Charlie questioned.

Colby assumed that Don had yet to let Charlie know that they had been pulled from the investigation, if so it was a bit of luck on their end, as this way their questions wouldn't seem out of place to the professor.

Colby and David didn't answer, looking at the present company over again.

Jessica pushed herself off from the couch, "I should probably get going. I still have errands to run."

Charlie followed her up, eyes locked on her form. Colby was not sure if he was comfortable with the way the mathematician stared after the newcomer. "You'll be back?" There was almost a pleading quality to the words and Colby shifted.

Jessica turned to him, all the coolness and detachment falling away; she smiled and years fell away from her face. "Of course. There are so many things to catch up on. I just have some errands to run."

"You'll be careful?" Charlie asked.

Jessica tilted her head, "I'll have Company."

"So you won't be alone." Charlie said and a matching smile spread across his face.

Colby waited but it seemed like the two of them got lost in each others eyes. The new woman definitely factored into the puzzle of why Charlie had never made advancements in his relationship with Amita. After another short moment where David moved his eyes from one to the other, the corner of his lips curling upwards in fond indulgence, Colby coughed.

The two broke their gaze and Charlie blinked at them. Jessica gave another lingering look at the distracted Eppes brother before heading to the door.

"Wait." Charlie said and she turned, almost before the word was finished. "Greg will come with you." He looked to the Army Lieutenant, "Since you were about to go soon anyways, keep each other Company."

There was a second where Colby was sure Williamson was going to object but the Army man said, "Sure," instead.

Colby and David watched the two leave and waited for Charlie to sit back down from locking the door. "So what did you need?" Charlie said once he was settled and smiled at them.

Some unknown tension seeped out of Colby's shoulders; he hadn't realized that it was there until now. "We just have some questions. About when you first met Williamson."

. : - : .

"_It wasn't an assignment really. It was more of a consulting gig? It wasn't really all that sensitive." Charlie couldn't help himself, because Don was right, he had never really been good at keeping secrets from him. Just the big ones. Just the most important ones. Just the ones which could shattered their world and change their lives forever. But this, this he could tell him, and Charlie wanted to. Just this one, this little bit. It wasn't that important and he wanted his big brother to be proud of him; to share with Don, at least in part, of all the things that he couldn't before. "We have troops stationed all over the globe right?" _

"_Stop. Stop, stopstopstop." Don stopped him. Don always did. "Don't let me play you like that."_

_Charlie knew it was for his own good and it was a show of trust in a way, but it still hurt, somewhere inside, where for a moment Charlie had believed in being able to tell Don what had happened. Being able to share with Don, all those years they lost together. Even though Charlie smiled when he said, this time in part jest, "I really can't tell you, it's um, it's top secret." His smile was tinged with bitterness where Don couldn't see. _

. : - : .

"Don mentioned that you were giving a presentation." David said. "Do you remember what the presentation was about?"

_You should know, I've told you the same thing before: using muzzle velocity, inclination of discharge, and area of target range to calculate where the bullet should be._ Charlie didn't say. _Or conversely, in terms of item of interest: where the dead or wounded body of the enemy should be. _"I can't tell you." Charlie replied instead. "It's top secret."

David blinked and the two FBI Agent's looked at each other. "Not even a clue?"

Charlie bit his lip and remained silent.

Colby stared at him for a long moment, a slow dawning realization in his eyes, before breathing in and slapped a hand down on his thigh. "Oh right. It was one of those presentations then. Well thanks, Charlie." He pushed himself up from the sofa seat.

"Wait," David said to his partner confused, "we're not done yet."

Colby shook his head lightly. "I don't want to get Charlie in trouble."

David looked back at Charlie and the genius mathematician looked down, away from his gaze. Charlie never grew good at lying but he learned to omit what he couldn't say. Charlie knew that he was giving things away, that if it was Colby's sense of discretion that picked up on it first, meant that it was military sensitive.

Colby played at being the slow jock or dumb lackey sometimes, but he was sharp and he noticed things. There was a very intelligent man underneath the laid back attitude and Charlie knew that there were a lot of things that Colby would never say, could never talk about, and that he was hiding something from those at the Bureau. Charlie had never confronted him, or mentioned anything because Colby wasn't the only one who walked away broken and with regrets from the military; there were some things that were better not commiserated and reminisced over a beer. Charlie hadn't known how he was supposed to feel about the ex-Army Agent; especially now with the changing circumstances.

Sometimes the straight line of Colby's spine and the breadth of his shoulders had sent Charlie back, made him ache with the memories. Sometime's Colby's stance and the way he moved, his mannerisms, were so nostalgic that Charlie had to look away and stare into his math, breathe and try to lose himself in the abstract numbers. Sometimes Colby reminded him of everything good, everything that he had missed _so much_, that it made his heart ache; and sometimes Colby reminded him of everything that he couldn't afford to think about, everything that he needed to forget and barely managed to.

Sometimes it brought it all back, when Colby first stood at the entrance of the briefing room, wide shoulders blocking the door way, a look of absolute bafflement in his eyes, but hesitant to enter the room to interrupt whatever calculations that Charlie might be drawing from the data spread out in front of him. And as Charlie sunk under the siren call of the numbers he would forget about his immediate surroundings, and sink into the past. A solider at the door, standing guard and flummoxed by the connection of a single formula to the next, but irresistibly drawn to the data before him, knowing that Charlie was reaching a conclusion that would point towards the next mission.

A soldier at the door and Krythan and Vahn down the hall, some of the Company in the mess and training rooms; people warily eyeing Gryffin and Moyne's bent heads as they planned pranks; Osaki and Yami walking hand-in-hand through the corridors; James and Victor in the hanger fiddling with engines; Greg and Anderson walking by periodically to lean against the doorway, ignore or commensurate with the soldier on duty, staring in indulgent wonder as Charlie hummed along to a melody, slender body weaving back and forth between the posted pages, marker/pencil/chalk scribbling barely legible notations.

After a year of consulting with the FBI, Colby came and made Charlie feel safe, safer than Don did.

Charlie hadn't been sure if he wanted to hug or punch him for that.

But now Colby was another complication, and not one Charlie was sure if they could avoid. If there was anyone who would be the most likely to notice the procedures they followed, the patterns of interaction, and the way of speech – it would be someone with a similar military background.

Charlie looked into Colby's eyes and wondered. "I'm sorry I can't help you." Meaning it and at the same time not.

"No worries Charlie." David said standing up, "It's not our active case anymore anyways."

"No?" Charlie questioned.

Colby shrugged, "It's been handed off, the military's got it. We've got a different case to focus on."

Charlie didn't know if he should be tense or not, the military having control of the investigation could be a good or bad thing for them, depending on who was put in charge. If it was someone who had previous affiliations' with Frynd-Sign Charlie could depend on their cooperation, but if it was someone with old prejudices there was going to be obstacles. Charlie needed to start defining his terms and putting boundaries on his variables soon.

"Maybe that's for the best." Charlie said, mostly to himself.

Colby gave him a wry smile, acknowledgement of unspoken secrets between them. "Perhaps. Has Don said anything to you about the new case, because we could use your help on that one too."

"Not yet." Charlie answered, it probably wouldn't be long before Don did bring Charlie into the loop or Charlie would ask. Ever since Charlie had begun consulting with the FBI there hadn't been any significant amount of time that elapsed before Charlie would go to Don. Charlie always looked to Don.

"Then I guess we'll see you at the office then." David replied. "Sorry for bothering you Charlie, and interrupting your meeting. We didn't know you had company."

"Don't worry about it." Charlie smiled. "I'll see them soon."


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Jessica wasn't stupid nor was she unobservant. So before they split, when Gregory turned to her and said, "I need you to run a background on Colby Granger." She knew instantly that there had to be more than just a surface concern of the other man being ex-military. Even she could see that in the federal agent from the first meeting.

"Something the problem?" She asked. She wasn't willing to play games when it came to Charlie's wellbeing.

"Something about him," Gregory started and paused.

"Anything in particular?"

"The way he stands, the way he moves…more than just military precision and covert-op. He reminds me." Gregory told her. "But I can't quite tell, not yet."

She nodded, "Alright." It was a request from her Second and even without Gregory requesting it she would have done a background check on all those surrounding her First. She wasn't going to take any chances, she lost enough of those that she loved. "I'll run the names through the database. You should check in with Helm and Iverson. They need to be informed."

Gregory hadn't reacted to the use of plural; they both knew there was a lot at stake. "Jessica." Gregory called as she walked away, "Cale." He said with a strong voice when she paused. "Will you be _my_ Second?"

The resident streets of Pasadana were empty in the setting sun, and she was backlit in the canvas of blue, pink, and purples as she tilted her head at him and laughed. "Did you think I would let anyone else be Third?"

Gregory lips twisted. "Gryffin."

She stared back at him, eyes dark and dangerous. "Gryffin's not here anymore. Whether it would have been his place or my place is not up to you to debate."

"I know." Gregory replied, because Gregory was Second now but none could have guessed that Charlie was ready for a Second, Charlie might have _had_ no Second and no one would have contested it, but Charlie would have had a _Third_. Charlie's Third would have been the one closest and most willing to sacrifice everything for him, someone with the most to lose and everything to gain. "One of these days, you'll trust us to take care of Charlie as much as you would."

"Of course I do." She said unblinking, "You're my Second."

Charlie decided so. Charlie did not make mistakes, or none that they weren't willing to forgive him for.

"One of these days," Gregory clarified, "You'll trust us to take care of Charlie because _you_ do."

"Of course I trust you to take care of Charlie," Jessica replied, resuming her walk away, "whether you can take care of him _best_…"

"I can try." Gregory said to her shrinking back.

_. : - : . _

"_You know most of the Company would die for you." Krythan said to him as they lay in bed._

_Charlie blinked. "Of course." The Company's trust in him and his math to being them back every time they were sent out on a mission was not a subject he took lightly. He knew how heavy that responsibility was, how serious and important even as it buoyed Charlie up with the faith the Company put in him. _

"_Not that." Krythan said, turning to slide her hand through soft curls and leaning her forehead against his. "They would die _for you_. For the opportunity to have you."_

_Charlie swallowed. He wasn't sure this was the right time to bring the subject up when they were both naked under the covers. "Krythan…"_

"_If you ever decide you're ready, if you ever decide you can try again after Anderson."_

_Charlie closed his eyes. _

_She shook him lightly and kissed the emerging tears away. "If you can try to move on, just know, there are many more who are willing to love you. Who _do_ love you. Cale isn't a bad choice. Osaki and Yami would welcome you into the fold. With the way Helm and Williamson stare after you, I'm sure you can convince them if you ever want to."_

"_Please." Charlie cut her off, "Can't I just be with you?" He pleaded softly, "Can't I just be with you and Vahn?"_

"_Of course baby boy." She whispered back, "But in the days when we're not there, when in the future you leave us." Charlie made a half-strangled note of protest, which Krythan shook her head at, "You might not want to and we might not want you to, but if and when, know you have choices. Older siblings aren't infallible." _

_Charlie's eyes widened; the swirling fear, love, and shame revealing all his secrets. _

_Krythan stared back into him unflinching, "We fail too." She told him softly. "We can't keep you safe, even when it's all we want in the world."_

_Charlie knew that Krythan just disclosed a secret, even if he didn't know in what context yet. _

"_Krythan…"_

"_Promise me Charlie." She said, "You'll think about it. Not just waiting around for him."_

_Charlie swallowed at the dark depths in her eyes and even though it hurt he whispered, "I promise."_

_. : - : . _

There was a knock on his door, "c equals 3 point 0 times 10 to the power of 8 meters per second." A member of the Chemistry faculty said walking in, "In other words, the speed of light."

Charlie looked at her. "Osaki."

The Japanese woman smiled, "Hello Charlie."

Charlie stood up, walking towards his coworker. "Guess I'm not the only Professor in the Company anymore."

Professor Osaki of the CALSCI chemistry department shook her head. "Doesn't really matter though, that wasn't the name we called you anyways Eppes-kami."

Charlie gave a wry smile in return, "I did not miss that name."

"You're the Incomparable." Osaki reminded him, "You're our divine. Our little baby god."

The Asians in the Company, minority as they were, always looked at him differently. No less respectful but something _more_; something almost transcendental. Different then those of Western descent the Japanese duo believed in gods that touched the Earth, forces embodied in physical form; humans that carried divinity within.

"Can I convince you differently?" Charlie asked.

"Would you ever want to?" She questioned.

Faith was a beautiful thing. Faith didn't need proof or to pass trials to be real. Faith _was_: believing without the need to bear witness. Faith was belief and trust and loyalty, everything Kythan beat into their heads again and again because that was what they had: faith, and each other. No one else would come for them; no one else would volunteer to step into the line of fire. Frynd-Sign took the last, the best, the unwanted, and the unknown. Every one of them were diamonds in the rough that had been discarded because others hadn't seen the worth in putting effort to polish them. Every one of them were the last kid, the unruly kid, the shy kid, the unwanted kid left standing when teams picked members.

But in Frynd-Sign, they belonged.

Every one of them.

Even Charlie.

_If it's a strength – use it. If it's a weakness, turn it into a strength._ Krythan's voice repeated the old words in the back of his mind. _Differences aren't our weakness, they are our strength. You know what you know for a reason, use it. There is no such thing as useless knowledge unless you _let_ it. You believe what you believe because it makes you, creates you, and I'll _remake_ you if I need to. Everything you keep, make sure you keep it for a reason._

"No." He relented quietly.

She smiled.

"Why aren't you with Yami?" Charlie asked softly, the question which burned in him since he had seen her again; outside of the Company. He had thought, along with the others, that the pair would never be without each other. He never understood why the two had walked away in separate directions. He had wanted to ask but refrained, in their newly built civilian lives the past was best kept sleeping.

Osaki's smile was crooked. "He couldn't save our team leader."

There had been no teams which had survived unscratched from the quarantine. "And you couldn't forgive him?" Charlie questioned.

Osaki's smile was true but melancholic. "I forgave him long ago. He couldn't forgive himself."

In Charlie's mind he saw himself opening the door to a dark apartment, walking in to see empty beer bottles littering the coffee table and around the leg of the couch; Don's silent profile against the moonlight, his eye's staring unfocused at the flickering television screen.

"Yeah." Charlie whispered, "Yeah, I can see that."

She shrugged. "Oh well. He'll come when he's ready, though that would suppose I'd still be here waiting." Her tone was sassy but both knew that anything else would be unthinkable. She would be waiting for him even until they were old and gray and couldn't turn the clock back anymore.

She had waited for him once in the middle of a battlefield, live fire all around her and nothing she could use for cover. She had stood there, waiting, absolute knowledge that Yami would come for her. And he did. Running under friendly fire and against enemy bullets, to come get her and pull her to safety. Never mind that it had been planned and calculated from Charlie's numbers, sometimes Charlie believed there _had _to be gods, for some of the crazy stunts his Company had pulled to have happened.

"I'll meet you in the Athletic Center in 4 hours." She told him from the door.

Charlie blinked. "How? What?"

"You have to get back into shape." She chirped, the gleam in her eyes almost wicked. "You don't expect me to believe you kept up your training through the years, did you? The track's always free at that time of day."

Charlie groaned. "No, not cardio."

She laughed. "You never were good at running."

Charlie paused. They both knew how that statement could be taken in another way. He dropped his eyes. "Yeah."

She nodded and left.

. : - : .

Jessica leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms and staring at the screen. She had all the information she needed about Donald Eppe's FBI team. What was most interesting was the file on Colby Granger. Originally a large portion had been blacked out but calling in some favors had cleared up the lines to what she now read.

Interesting.

And complicated.

But could definitely work in their advantage. She loaded everything onto a USB key, disconnected from the network server, and erased the browser history. She got ready to leave and slipped the removable device into her pocket, this was something her First be informed about.

She wondered if Colby Granger had any clue about why he knew so much about Frynd-Sign.


	14. Background Information

**Anomaly Background Information**

So since I have this to keep track for myself, you guys might need it to.

* * *

**TIMELINE**

**CANON TIMELINE**

Charlie, ~29 current (2004 S1)  
13: Graduates High School, same time as Don  
16: Princeton graduation  
17: Masters MIT/Institute of choice  
18-20: PhD on Cognitive Emergence  
20-22: Cambridge with Susan  
22-26: Moving back to LA, his 'fluid dynamics period'  
25: Margaret's illness, Charlie's fall into P vs. NP, Margaret's death  
~29: Beginning of show

Charlie lost touch with Don when he was ~16 -25

Don, ~34 current (2004 S1)  
5 years older then Charlie  
18: Graduated high school same time as Charlie  
18-20: Was scouted and played for Stockton Rangers baseball for 2(?) years, then joined FBI,  
20–23: Joined FBI  
24: Went to FBI Academy in Quantico and dated Terry at 24 in 1995 (Charlie was 20)  
25-26: Spent 2 year in Fugitive Recovery with Billy before going to Albuquerque  
27-29: Lead Albuquerque Agent and almost purposed with Kim Hall  
29: Came back to L.A. when Mom got sick and died  
~34: Beginning of show

**FICTION TIMELINE**

Charlie  
16: last year at Princeton, NSA training camp  
19: with Frynd-Sign, learns how to shoot, gets in relationship with Anderson  
~20-22: Living with Susan, went more often to the base in second year, less time with Susan, strained relationship. Camp was overtaken and when came back, they broke off relationship.  
23: Charlie walks away from operative status and goes home with his mother.  
25: Mother gets cancer.  
29: beginning of Anomaly

**CHAPTER EVENTS TIMELINE**

Tuesday: Greg Williamson shot, Charlie lets n-1 letter, Greg is released, Charlie unpacks gun and magazine, Greg comes to visit, Don comes home for dinner to see Greg visiting  
Wednesday: Victor Helm shot, Don puts an agent to guard Charlie when he and Greg try to go out, Greg tells Charlie he's Third  
Thursday: James Iverson shot, Vahn sends text f(x) = -x-(-n) = c =1  
Friday: Colby and David interview James, unknown to FBI a member of Frynd-Sign dies taking down the preps with him  
Saturday: No activities mentioned.  
Sunday: Frynd-Sign member Gryffin Beck's funeral, his NSA partner Jessica Cale walks away to find her superiors

Monday: Frynd-Sign text sent out. Vahn makes contact with Charlie. Megan finds Frynd-Sign connection.  
Tuesday: Philip Wren orders Don off the case. Jessica visits James. Philip Wren opens the letter (To the light in our lives).  
Wednesday: Gregory is appointed Charlie's 2IC. David and Colby visit Charlie.  
Thursday: Osaki makes contact as ex Frynd-Sign. Jessica does background search on Don's team.

* * *

**CHARACTERS**

Krythan Frynd – Colonel, Assassin  
Vahn Sign – Lieutenant Colonel, Spy

Both came from CIA, and then was loaned to Army base, gained their own team which alter expanded into the Company.

Frynd-Sign Company ex-members:

Gregory Williamson: Lieutenant, used to be Specialist when Charlie knew him, becomes Charlie's 2IC.

Victor Helm: Covert ops. Was on leave and shot.

James Iverson: Left Frynd-Sign and now runs his own security consultant business. Black hair, brown eyes, is only half-oriental but looks full.

Yami Shino: Japanease descent. Paired with Osaki.

Professor Osaki: mentioned in S3E22, an organic chemist. Japanease descent. Paired with Yami.

Jessica Cale: NSA partner of Gryffin Beck. Last member of her Frynd-Sign team. Was Jessica Cartman from Charlie's childhood mentioned in S2E8.

Gryffin Beck: deceased. Was last member of Frynd-Sign his team.

Moyne Jefferson: lost his beloved, went catonic for a while.

(Unknown) Anderson: deceased. Dark hair, green eyes. Was Charlie's significant other for 1 year. Had been trained for Charlie's 2IC.

Two years after Charlie left, the Frynd-Sign company was disbanded. Krythan and Vahn went back to the CIA and everyone else were transferred to other departments or voluntarily discharged.

* * *

**Common Military Ranks**

OFFICERS: Field Marshal, General, Brigadier, Colonel, Lt. Colonel, Major, Captain, Lieutenant, 2nd Lieutenant

SOLDIERS: Sergeant Major, Sergeant, Corporal, Private

* * *

**Scenes incorporated from Canon Episodes**

CHAPTER FOUR EXCERPT

"_Charlie where did you learn all this stuff about assassination?"_

_Charlie gave a weak smile. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." _

_Amita laughed. "Seriously." _

_His smiled died. "Seriously." _– Season 2, Episode 5: Assassin

. : - : .

CHATPER FIVE EXCERPT

"_There was noise. Blood." And it all came back. Gun shoots around him, cold metal to his back, in his hands, the pressure of his finger on the trigger; the spray of red across his visions and spreading out on enemies, colleagues, friends. _

"_I never knew fear, until that moment." Until where Don had always presented safety, came the notion that even Don couldn't save him from some things. When he had been away, at the base, on sites, in the middle of gunfire, Don had always been his haven. That if and when he got home, Don would be there, and as long as Don was there, no one would be able to hurt him. Even with the sniper case, his belief held because while he had been shot at, Don wasn't there beside him, it had been David. But the concept was shattered with the bullet flaying past his head, inches from him, with Don right there by his side unable to do anything until it would have been too late. _

_Don couldn't save him from everything. That hurt him the most._

"_I realize the only thing I'm really afraid of is being afraid again." He wasn't afraid of death, he had seen death. He had seen a lot of death, and murder and killings. But being afraid, freezing up, other people dying because of him - he couldn't do that again. He thought he left that behind_. – Season 2, Episode 21: Rampage

. : - : .

CHAPTER TEN EXCERPT

"_Charlie you have to understand the reality of crimes like this-" Don said forcibly. _

"_Excuse me I understand the reality!" Charlie interrupted him, unable to be talked over on this, to just let his brother take the USB key and encrypted photos and the responsibility from his shoulders. This time there was more than what his brother understood, and this time he couldn't let it go._

"_What the hell are you doing?" Don demanded, "I need more than the photograph, I need to stop a guy from disappearing into Mexico!" Don was angry, Don was furious that Charlie was getting in the way of his work, of his investigation, but Charlie couldn't give it up. This meant something. There was a reason why he couldn't give up the memory device. He couldn't fail. Not again. Then Don shouted "An Agent was killed," and there was nothing Charlie could do against that. Charlie understood responsibility and the weight of having others put their lives under your command in trust – and failing them. Charlie knew penance._

_Before he even asked, he knew the answer. "He set off the explosion?" _

"_Yes" Don said, tone hard but the guilt hardly hidden at all. _

_Charlie looked down at the small electronic device clutched in his hand, knuckles white. Charlie didn't want to give it up, but he was familiar with weighing the cost between a life lost and a life they could save against the thirst for vengeance and appeasement of old failures. Charlie didn't want to let it go but this was Don, Don who was angry and hurting and Charlie was just too used to giving up, giving in, trying his best to protect Don from everything he could. From the hard truths that Charlie could not, could never, and had no intention of ever revealing to Don. _

_Charlie raised his arm and held out the memory key. Don still had to yank from his tight fingers and his bitten off "thank you" was full of hostility. Charlie couldn't look up, his head pulled downwards from the weight too heavy to lift. _

_It was another one of his failures pulled in front of him. Another reminder that he was weak; had always been weak. He had always walked away from things, from the things that hurt; turning away from reality and sinking into the numbers for escape. He had walked away from caring for his mother when she was sick, he had walked away from Frynd-Sign when it hurt too much, he had walked away from his family to Princeton when he couldn't relate to them anymore, and he had walked away from Jessica even when he had known something was wrong._

_He was weak. He was a failure. He only hoped that it would be some time yet before Don knew. Could only hope that he could protect Don, help him, for just a little bit longer before the visage of competence was ripped away to reveal the wretched man underneath. _

_He needed his brother to need him, just for a bit longer. For as long as possible._ - Season 2, Episode 8: In Plain Sight

* * *

**FRYND-SIGN CALCULUS**

n = Vahn Sign  
x = Krythan Frynd  
c = Charlie Eppes  
f(x) = Frynd-Sign (Krythan and Vahn) Unit

Chapter One message sent from Krythan to Charlie: n - 1  
Translation: Vahn minus 1, the 1 being Krythan  
Meaning: Vahn is alone, Krythan is out of his reach at the moment.

Chapter Five

Message from Vahn to Charlie: f(x) = -x-(-n) = c = 1  
Translation: Frynd-Sign Unit = missing Krythan minus (missing Vahn) = Charlie = First  
Meaning: The Frynd-Sign Unit is still missing Krythan but no longer missing Vahn. Charlie though, has become First in command for the duration.

Message from Charlie to Vahn: c = n-1 = -x  
Translation: Charlie = Vahn minus 1 = missing Krythan  
Meaning: Charlie has previously recieved a note, that Vahn was alone, from the missing Krythan

* * *

Gad, I hope I that's everything. But a question for everyone - when I incorporate scenes/dialogues from canon episodes, would you like the origins (as posted above) directly in the chapter or revealed later in another separate note?


	15. Chapter 13

Ahaha...so this has actually been written for a while now but I forgot to upload it. Enjoy and forgive me for my absentmindedness, University midterms has eaten my brain.

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Charlie didn't know what he expected when he returned from the Athletic Center: tired, sore, and hoping not too many bruises appeared from the impromptu spar he'd known would happen after the run. When he opened the door to see Jessica and Gregory waiting for him in his office there were many things, good and bad and _worse_, that their presence could have indicated but what he read in the folder was none of possibilities he'd imagined.

"I thought he felt familiar," Greg murmured.

"Vahari was his team leader." Jessica said softly.

A soldier at the door. Wide breadth of shoulders. Gaze confused and fascinated by the numbers.

Charlie let the folder fall shut on the desk, leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes, Jessica and Greg stood at his sides, supporting him, but he needed this moment to himself. For his two lives finally colliding together.

Vahari.

Vahari Kyle, who according to a notice in the folder, had passed away years ago; his will read and belongings distributed amongst the surviving team members. Except.

A small notation, a puzzling statement that no one had understood, the final line in his will: _For my god, I give everything. For the light, find use of what I leave. _

Vahari Kyle, according to his team mates and superiors, had never been religious; had believed in no deity or omniscient being. He was patriotic and stern and believed in his _people_ – so the last statement was mystifying; the legal's took it to mean for the God and Country, but another puzzling thing was that Vahari had no more belongings. Everything he had owned, personal artifacts and financial matters, had been distributed. There was nothing left to give.

"We should have been told." Charlie whispered.

"Covert operations, Charlie." Greg apologized.

Secrecy and confidentialities and the hurt and pain they caused that Charlie walked way from, but now it was coming to find him. Jessica and Greg did not push, giving him time to collect himself.

A knock sounded on the office door and instantly the two went on alert. It was late, too late for the visitor to be a student looking for a professor. Jessica stayed by Charlie while Greg went to open the door. The identity of the visitor made the soldier tense.

"What are you doing here?" Greg questioned dangerously.

"I came to talk to Charlie."

The voice was familiar, lower and older, but enough to make Charlie bolt upright in shock. Jessica flicked her eyes between the frozen figure of her First and the constrained aggression of her Second.

"Now is not a good time." Gregory said.

"Let him in." Charlie called out.

Gregory turned, jaw clenched, "Charlie…"

"Let him in." Charlie repeated.

Gregory waited for Charlie's nod before releasing his white knuckled grip on the knob and when the door swung open to admit the visitor Jessica felt her breath rush out. Stepping into the room was six foot of lean muscle, wide shoulders, angular face, dark close chopped hair and shining bright emerald eyes. Charlie breathed, deep and shaking, at the vision of someone he missed and mourned and never got to see age into the man in front of him.

"Professor." The ghost whispered, "Charlie."

The edges of his sight blurred, eyes gleaming, and he ached. _"Anderson…"_

_. : - : . _

"_Once two babies were found by a dumpster. They were never claimed and entered the welfare system. One was adopted, the other wasn't._

_One grew up in a safe, happy home. The other learned early on that nothing in life was free and fought tooth and nail for everything he ever wanted. One flourished under the tutelage of his doting Colonel father and entered the service to make his family proud. The other was labeled violent and rebellious and signed up for the military because no other option was available. _

_Neither knew what happened to the second until one day, in a corridor, two military units met; one with a highly respected commander and the other from a disparaged Company that fought back."_

_Charlie tightened his arms around the other man as he went to finish his story._

"_The only thing other than the blankets they were found in was a piece of paper with a single word written on it. Both kept the name."_

_. : - : . _

Jessica blinked bright-eyed at the name and the ghost closed his eyes in bittersweet remembrance.

"Charlie…" Greg whispered.

"I know." Charlie said, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips but dying a swift death. "This isn't…" hand raised, fingers hovering to trace the lines of a weary face, but not touching. "You aren't."

"No," the ghost sighed, "I wish I was. It should be."

Charlie dropped his hand and stepped back. "What can I do for you, Philip Wren?"

Philip Wren's lips twisted, unable to smile. Pain and bitterness and so much regret in the green eyes. "I have a message for you."

"From?" Charlie asked.

Philip shook his head and held out the bundle of small envelopes wrapped in loose pages. It could explain better than he could. "You guys always knew how to strike where it hurt most."

"I'd be careful of my words if I was you Wren." Greg warned at Charlie pause.

"I thought Frynd-Sign encouraged voicing your thoughts." Wren replied to the soldier as the mathematician unfolded the papers.

"Frynd-Sign encourages constructive communication," Jessica said watching Charlie's eyes sharpen at the message on the pages, "and unity against outsiders."

"He idolized your Company," Philip began.

"Think carefully of what you want to say Wren." Greg interrupted, "He died under your command."

"Stop it." Charlie said quietly, cutting down the impending argument. He felt the gaze of too familiar green eyes and swallowed. "Anderson was Frynd-Sign before he was your brother. I'm sorry. But he did not regret that."

"And you would know best." Philip murmured.

"Yes." Charlie replied.

_. : - : . _

"_It's too late for the two of us."_

"_He just wants to get to know you." Charlie explained. _

"_He wants to transfer me to his unit." Emerald eyes looked into shocked brown. "He wants me to be a person I'm not. I belong in Frynd-Sign. The most important things to me are the Company and you, Charlie. He can't change that." _

"_He could try." Charlie said._

_Anderson replied, "I don't want him to."_

_. : - : . _

Philip Wren stared into unwavering brown orbs for a long moment, conviction and truth clear in their depths. His jaw clenched and he finally nodded. "The officer in charge of the investigation is a good man. He won't give you any trouble."

Charlie tilted his head, "Thank you."

He turned to walk out, pausing only in the doorway to say, "I wish things had turned out differently."

"Me too." Charlie said to the stiff back before the Army Captain let the door fall closed and disappeared from view.

"Anderson would have never accepted the way he talked to you." Jessica said.

"Anderson was Frynd-Sign, Wren isn't." Greg spoke up.

Jessica turned to him, "Sympathizing?"

"Just pointing out some facts." Gregory said, "There are some things Wren will never understand."

"Or want to." Charlie whispered.

"Will we need to do something about Wren?" Jessica asked.

"No," Charlie answered. "He won't be a problem for us."

"No," Greg agreed. "But speaking of, what about Colby Granger, Charlie?"

"He was trained by Vahari." Jessica reminded softly.

Vahari Kyle who was only second to Vahn, had been _trained_ by Vahn, in espionage. Who, apparently, trained Colby Granger.

_I give everything…find use of what I leave behind. _

"If Vahari trained him, there is no way that he was simply re-assigned to a team in the FBI." Greg said. "They don't let go of talent that easily."

"Vahari was a sergeant before we disbanded. He trained Frynd-Sign soldiers."

Frynd-Sign didn't train heroes.

Charlie looked down at the envelopes and wrinkled papers in his hand._ For the light in our lives._


	16. Chapter 14

Hi everyone, it's been a while, and I have to apologize for not replying to some of the great reviews I've received since the last update. I've had a few who say that this is their favorite Numb3rs fiction, and that they can't find another with such writing and plot, and I just have to say THANK YOU, and that soon my ego won't fit in the door anymore, lol. I don't actually read or take part in the Numb3rs fandom, but I'm sure there are other great fictions out there, they're just always hard to find. But I'm also really glad you all enjoy this fiction. Some of you might know, but most probably don't, the long down time was in part due to my computer was infected with a virus and I'm still currently trying to recover the files. But I did manage to salvage what was the beginning part of this chapter and finish it. So I hope you all enjoy this update! =)

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Charlie brushed his fingers over the name of the recipient on the outer envelope: _Philip Anderson_. The name of one he had loved in the penmanship of someone else he loved.

_For the light in our lives. _

_Lead them as you see fit._

_Find use of what I leave behind._

"How can you believe in me so much?" He whispered to the absent speakers. "I'm not deserving of this, of such faith." The silence of the room was becoming too familiar. He got up from the bed and walked to the window, the night sky glittering with sparse stars. "How can you expect me to do this?"

_You amaze me. Every time. Always did… Always will._

His chest ached and his sight blurred. "Why aren't you here?"

. : - : .

"_It's always easier to hide in plain sight." Vahn explained, "Let people see what they want to see. Let them assume what conclusions they want, as long as it's not the _right_ one. Unless you want them to." _

_Charlie stood in the back of the room, sitting in on Vahn's lesson for the advanced class. _

"_Give pieces of yourself, but always to different people. So when you leave, no one would have known you at all."_

"_Entertained Charlie?" Krythan murmured, sliding up next to him. _

"_Just…watching." Charlie answered. "It sounds a bit lonely though, doesn't it Krythan?"_

. : - : .

Keys twisted and the door was opened, morning light spilling in. "Hey, anybody awake?" Don called as he placed the briefcase down and locked up behind him.

"Don." Alan Eppes greeted, setting down a plate onto the dining table. "Don't tell me you spent the whole at working."

"Alright," Don said, slipping off his jacket, "I won't tell you that. Hey, is Charlie up yet?"

Alan sighed vexed, "You boys. I heard him shuffling around at all hours of the night, probably did the same thing as you. Question should be; has he gone to bed yet?"

"Oh," Don said unbuttoning his cuffs, "has he?"

The father sat himself down at the head of the table and stared at his oldest son. "Donny. I just told you that your brother hasn't slept all night. I know what you do is important but can you at least sit down and have some breakfast, wait until Charlie actually gets out of his room instead of rushing him?"

Don blinked, slowly bringing himself down to a chair. "Alright. Alright. Sure Dad. I can wait. What's…is something the problem?"

Alan released the anger in a breath. "I don't know. Charlie hasn't been sleeping right, or at all, in the past few weeks. He's always mumbling to himself and if he's not at the university or your office, he's in the garage or his room."

"But that's normal Charlie dad."

"He's not working on equations at home Don." Alan told him, "Not like he usually is. He's sitting there, staring at the chalkboard or looking off to this distance. He's gotten quieter and spends so much time inside himself."

"He's not working on that P vs. NP is he?" Don asked worried.

"No," Alan answered, "but that almost makes me worry more. Something happened, but I don't have any clues to what. At least that mathematic scribble would let us know what it could be. This…" The father trailed off and blinked.

"Dad?" Don asked, "Dad, what is it?"

"This…"Alan said with something like an epiphany, "This is like when he first came back from Cambridge. After Susan."

Don furrowed his brows. "What? I thought he just lost himself in the math all the time. You guys said that he was always writing something, and often forgot to take care of himself."

"Your mom made sure Charlie remembered to eat and sleep." Alan spoke of his late wife with only a small pang of loss, time helping to soften the pain. "But when he wasn't madly scribbling he was staring off into space. We couldn't always get him to respond. It was like he fell into a trance and sometimes all we could do was wait it out. The math helped, at least he was with us when he was solving questions. It was easier to interrupt him, just had to take his chalk away. Over time the periods of silence grew shorter and shorter as Charlie devoted more and more of his time to the math. I forgot about that."

"It was that bad?" Don demanded, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was about the same time you left Fugitive Recovery and begun leading the Albuquerque office. We didn't want anything to upset that." Alan explained. "Besides, your mother had it under control. Charlie was pulling out of it, until she got diagnosed."

Don hated talking about the time immediately before his mother's death. "Well, last time he broke up with Susan. What happened this time?"

Alan shook himself, coming back to the present. "I don't know. Charlie hasn't been in a relationship as far as I knew. Charlie wouldn't know an interested woman if she whacked him over the head."

"I'm pretty sure he'd notice _then_ at least Dad." Don replied.

"You say that." Alan muttered, reaching for a sandwich.

"You have to give him some credit Dad. Charlie's not _that_ oblivious." Don said, reaching for a sandwich of his own.

"We'll agree to disagree on that for now son." Alan finalized. "But what was it you wanted to see Charlie about? A new case?"

"Yeah," Don confirmed reluctantly. "I've actually been putting it off. This…might get a bit sensitive and I didn't want Charlie caught up in it, just in case it did."

"So why don't you?" Alan asked, "I'm sure the FBI has other mathematicians they can consult."

"Dad." Don said flatly. "I know you wish Charlie wasn't so involved in some of my work, but this is important. Charlie is the best there is, and we save lives."

"Alright, fine." Alan replied, standing up to walk to the kitchen for a drink. "I just want to say that saving lives shouldn't come at the expense of ruining your brother's."

"Dad!" Don bit off.

"Or yours. But I've said this many times before and neither of you listened to me."

"We listen." Don tried to explain patiently, "But sometimes it has to be done. Our few nights' peaceful rest shouldn't come at the cost of other people's lives."

"You tell yourself what lets you keep on Donny." Alan said, "But me, I'm not a law officer, just a father. And I will always see things differently when it comes to my boys."

"I know," Don replied, "I know Dad. But-"

Footsteps rushed down the stairs and the last missing Eppes male was across the hall and at the front door before anything could be said.

"Charlie!" Alan called out, "Have some breakfast before you go!"

"Can't!" Charlie shouted back, stuffing his feet into his shoes and trying to pull on his coat at the same time. "I'm going to be late for my lecture!"

"Charlie, wait!" Don shouted. "I have to talk to you!"

"Later Don!" Charlie promised stepping into the day, swinging the door closed behind him.

. : - : .

_Charlie laughed, wrapping his arms around his stomach and turned away, to hide his shaking shoulders. _

_No one was fooled._

"_Lovely wardrobe you got there boys." Krythan remarked from the entrance, smirking at the mud splattered and sand crusted soldiers. _

"_Anderson tripped over the water line." Helm said grimly, shaking off the desert. _

"_Anderson _broke_ the water line." Moyne corrected._

"_I thought you went," Charlie coughed, "to fix it?"_

"_You _don't_ want to know." Anderson muttered to the ground._

"_Actually, _I do_." Krythan remarked. "So why don't you boys head into my office. I'm going to have to write up the report. Charlie, why don't you get Vahn? He should be there for uh, in case I miss out on any details. And of course, you must sit in as well. Since I don't know, there might be some number analysis you need to run in case, this might be a hidden enemy attack. Since a few competent soldiers should have _easily_ been able to fix a small leak. I'm going to need the odds of if this is just a cover for something, or, you know maybe, the number of reps I need to add to some of the unit for training."_

_All the soldiers cringed._

. : - : .

Standing in front of the classroom Charlie was hungry, tired, and didn't have time for this today. But he couldn't just skip out. He turned and wrote a question on the blackboard.

"Alright guys, for today: surprise quiz!" The students instantly protested. "But I'm not doing it to punish you; it's actually a reward for you being here; just listen. I'm not going to deduct marks from anyone, any marks that you get from this quiz will be bonus marks. I'm leaving a sheet up here for you to sign your name, you get one mark for being present, and you can hand in your work in a pile next to the attendance sheet by the end of the hour. You can talk to each other, just hand in your own individual paper at the end, and I will only give marks for work shown. So if you skip out on the process, that's your own fault. Alright, I'm leaving now, you're not allowed to ask me or any faculty members for help. You're allowed your own knowledge and the help of your classmates to show what you've learned so far in this course. Someone will be in at the end to collect the pile, so good luck everyone!" He left while they were still abuzz. A stop to one of his teaching assistants and then he was gone from the university.

The first destination was the shopping mall. He went to the dollar store and bought a small generic looking side bag, sunglasses, and two caps. Stopping off at the department store he bought a cheap black shirt, jeans, and jacket. He paid for everything in cash and changed in the washroom, took only what he needed with him, stuffing everything else into a rented locker. He exited from a different entrance than he came in through and followed he flow of pedestrians to the bus stop.

Boarding he bus, he rode until it was almost the end of its route and got off near a factory site. Most of the visible area was vacant, even cars were sparse, as the product of the items in the area fell. He head towards one of the many run down warehouses in a row. He was careful to stay out of sight from the main road and paused in front of a back door, knocking in a rhythmic pattern, waiting for a minute of silence before punching in the code on the keypad. The lock disengaged and he stepped into the darkness carefully. He had noticed earlier that the longer he was moving about the quieter his movements became; old training coming back.

He took a few more steps in, one hand migrating towards the small of his back, as the silence made him tense.

A fist came from the side – _clumsy; redirect – flow past – duck beneath and behind – grab limb – turn, twist, pull, click off safety –_ and Charlie stared down at back of the man made to kneel in front of him, his arm locked in a painful reach as Charlie held his wrist in a firm hold and a gun to his head.

"I'm not going back." The man shouted. "I won't, you can't make me!"

Charlie had no clue what he was referring to.

"I won't go back!" The man repeated, this time almost pleading.

Charlie let go of him and stepped back, bringing both hands to steady the grip of his weapon. _Spread your legs,_ Krythan said in his head, _prepare for body to absorb the recoil. _Charlie followed the figure up with the sight as the man stood. He was taller than Charlie and when he turned faced him the stranger wasn't much older than Charlie, skinny, and very pale. Charlie locked down on the part of that him that whispered he was going to misfire, he was going to let the gun slip, he was going to mess up. The man in front of him was scared, Charlie felt bad, felt sorry, but Krythan sent him here with very specific instructions and she had never failed him before, never let him down. Charlie wasn't going to let Krythan down either.

It's been some time but Charlie had been an operative and Frynd-Sign. He had his part, had missions and carried them out. It had been some time since but the training was coming back. He knew that behind the shades his eyes were too wide, too expressive, would have given away every insecurity he was feeling, but that was why he wore the sunglasses.

He stepped forward into a patch of light. The man was shaking and took a frightened step back. "Please." The man whispered.

"Are you the package?" Charlie questioned.

The man jerked, eyes wide in confusion. Tension slowly seeping from his shoulders and eyes still fixed on the barrel of the gun, but flicked up towards Charlie's face. "What?"

"Even cry babies need to grow up." Charlie told him, code phrase slipping in clear. "Are you ready to go?"

And the man's face shattered, eyes overflowing with tears. "Yes, _yes_. I promise, no heroics."

Charlie lowered the gun, tucking it back behind at the bottom of his spine, and opened his arms. The other man collapsed into him, crying grateful tears on his shoulder.

Charlie had specialized in retrieval. _There is a precious cargo_, Krythan had written beneath all the calculations and code.


End file.
